


Quiet Observations

by ofshadowsandstars



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drug Addiction, Eventual Romance, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, Getting to Know Each Other, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, Therapy, briefly, how did i miss that one it's the whole show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofshadowsandstars/pseuds/ofshadowsandstars
Summary: The nurse met Connor’s eyes with ease. “Exactly what is sounds like. You took too much, you were having seizures, then you weren’t, then your heart stopped. If it hadn’t been for squirrel boy’s mom,” he jerked his thumb at Evan, “you might not be alive."So things go a little differently at the end of May/early June.





	1. two-thirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A preface and eventual accompaniment to https://yes-i-also-miss-our-talks.tumblr.com/

Thirty-eight seconds.

That’s how long Connor Murphy was dead.

Thirty-eight seconds. Nearly two-thirds of a minute. In that time, his heart stopped, which stopped the pumping of blood throughout his body, which shut down his lungs (among the many things powered by blood flow) and, for a brief moment, his brain. Had it not been for an especially concerned nurse, his brain may not have made it back. Once he had stopped seizing, died temporarily, been revived, and was stable enough to have his stomach pumped with charcoal, the nurse had technically been off-duty for nearly 40 minutes.

Nearly two-thirds of an hour.

It was three in the morning. She didn’t go home. She went up two floors to where her son was resting. He was the same age as the boy she’d helped save, and in the same pained, fitful, not-quite-sleep that Connor had been in when she’d left. Where Connor had been fighting what was inside him, Evan’s fight left marks. His broken arm, most noticeably, but there were bruises everywhere. He’d hit quite a few branches before the ground caught up with him. Not to mention the concussion.

Evan was the only one in the recovery room. Just the way he liked it. There had been get-well flowers next to the bed on the previous day. He hated the smell of them, but he was too nice to ask his mom to move them. Still, when she went home to pick up some clothes for him, she took the flowers with her without a word. The grateful smile on his beat-up face was enough.

She curled up next to the bed in a chair not meant to be slept in. She had nowhere better to be.

 

At some time around five in the morning, a new occupant was wheeled into Evan’s room. It was a boy his age, pale and thin and sick and not going home nearly as soon as his roommate. His bedside was empty until just before nine in the morning, when a girl wearing jeans covered in self-afflicted graffiti came in, placed a small stack of books on the table at his side. She took a look at his pale face, made ever more so by the harsh white of the hospital, and the needle in his arm and the tube up his nose and shuddered. Her hand hovered over his, considering a touch, wondering if they were even compatible anymore. If even a touch was too far beyond their reality.

Instead, she smoothed out his blanket and rearranged the stack of books so that a book previously in the middle was now on the top. It was the most battered and faded of the group and clearly used to being handled roughly, but she placed it on top gingerly, as if it were made of porcelain.

“I’m not sorry,” she said with conviction, looking at the cover of the book. “Not about this.”

And then she was gone.

Evan and Heidi pretend they saw nothing.

Curiosity, however, knows better.

 

**9:21 a.m.**

“Never took you for one to get in fights, Hansen.”

To say Evan was startled is to take it easy on saying the least. There was definitely a yelp involved. He squeaked out a ‘what?’, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to know.

“Your face, your arm. You look like you got beat up. And never once have you gotten beat up that I know of. You’re too quiet even for that. Not that I can see you getting into fights, either, but the process of elimination, right?”

Connor’s voice was raspy and drowsy - he had probably only just woken up - and his eyes were foggy, but his observations seemed pretty coherent. Though the fact that he had made observations about Evan prior to that moment was...well, it would be expected of someone with which you had shared classes since the first grade, but seldom did people hold onto those things.

“I,” Evan swallowed around the ever-present lump in his throat, “I didn’t get into a fight. I had an accident.”

 _What, like during the fire drill in fourth grade?_ A dark voice in his head taunted, though this was a completely kind of accident.

Not that this had truly been an accident.

“Didn’t know they kept people overnight for a broken arm.”

“Concussion,” Evan explained, pointing to his temple. “Observation. Just to be safe, they say. Has nothing to do with all the money an extended visit will give them.” The words slipped out of his mouth without consulting the throat lump. Evan wondered if he did have brain damage after all.

Connor snorted. “They do like to get away with bullshit fees. Can’t tell you how many times my dad has represented someone suing a hospital for the most random thing. You know insurance only covers certain types of ambulances?”

Evan nodded a few times, fighting with the lump. “That’s why I didn’t call an ambulance after my accident. Drove here. _I_ didn’t drive, obviously, not with the concussion and the broken arm. I was out at Ellison State Park and I had to ask one of the rangers to drive me.” Beg was more like it, seeing how pathetic Evan is.

“Well, shit. You’re doing that Junior Ranger thing, right?”

Evan blinked at Connor as if a bright light had just been shoved in his face. Was he being stalked? How could _Connor Murphy_ of all people have known why he'd be at the local state park?

“Back in middle school, we had to do one of those dime-a-dozen icebreaker things on the first day,” Connor began, seeing the confusion on Evan’s face. “Had to list your name and your favorite thing you did over the summer and some other bullshit thing. Kids looked at you all sympathetic when you stuttered out a little thing about going to the park and listening to the rangers talk about it. Still, I could tell that it was something you really cared about. And you always had a sticker from the park on a binder or a notebook somewhere. Now that it’s summer, they have the program out at the park for people who wanna get a taste of rangering. You have to be seventeen to do it officially or whatever, so...educated guess? I figured you wouldn’t go outside without a reason to. No one does these days.”

It had been years since even Evan had thought of that particular embarrassing moment; it had been lost in so many worse ones. He only vaguely remembered the first day of middle school aside from the overwhelming feeling of get me out of here that plagued him every second. That did sound like him, though. A few weeks before school had started he had spent a day at the park, walking the hiking trail he’d been on a hundred times as a retired ranger - the husband of a work friend of his mom’s - pointed out different trees and told stories from back in the day. Never once did he expect anything of Evan but curiosity and some attentiveness. It was a good day. The air had been clear and his mind had followed suit.

Then again, Evan’s mind had been pretty clear as he plummeted to the ground three days previously. Perhaps not thinking wasn’t all people chalked it up to be.

But on that day it had been.

“Sorry if that was creepy,” Connor apologized, startling Evan out of his memories. “I remember the weirdest shit. I can’t remember the structure of a cell to save my life, but I can remember the specifics of the story behind why Maggie G gets freaked out even at the mention of a baseball bat. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling. I need to shut the fuck up now.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Apprentice Ranger,” said Evan. It was a quiet thought, one that snuck its way around the throat lump.

Quiet as it was, Connor seemed to have heard it, because he nodded in understanding. “ _Apprentice_ Ranger. My bad. Junior Ranger is that shit you gotta do a scavenger hunt packet for at the national parks. My sister used to be obsessed with them, I think that’s why I mixed it up.”

“Honest mistake,” Evan added, a bit louder this time.

“Something like that, yeah.” He looked away as he finished the thought, throwing his hair in front of his face with the movement. It had been getting long when school ended the month before, but now it was probably long enough to tie back. Everything else about Connor was long: his limbs, his face, his fingers (with nails painted black as he had been doing since eighth grade), the reach of his glare. The hair suited him.

“Hey, you,” Connor whispered, reaching out to grab the beaten-up book at the top of the stack next to his bed. “Long time, no see.”

Evan craned his neck to get a look at the cover. The name wasn’t clear, but he recognized the image on it. _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn._ ‘The less interesting Peter Pan, but with racism,’ Jared had called it, not caring about the obvious differences between the stories. Evan had been too tired to argue.

Though he didn’t connect with Huck on any personal level, Evan had liked the book well enough when he had to read it for school the summer before. He understood the want to get away, to go somewhere no one could touch you, that had fueled the titular adventures. He could see how a loner like Connor would conceivably enjoy a book like that. Evan was too scared to be irrational and spontaneous like Huck. Connor, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be scared of anything.

“I didn’t think my mom even knew I liked this book,” Connor said, holding up the cover for Evan to see. The lightness in his tone was something Evan couldn’t remember ever hearing. He figured that this happier Connor was a bit like a teacher over summer break: you know the other side of them is there, logically, but you’re so used to seeing one thing that even the slightest change is disarming and foreign.

Evan was considering telling Connor that it had actually been Zoe that brought the books  (though, in hindsight, she may not have been the one to select them), but the throat lump kept pulling his tongue back into his mouth every time he considered speaking, so Evan decided to stay silent instead of going into his signature stammering. He wondered if the throat lump would go away if he had his vocal cords removed. Would there be a throat lump equivalent if he spent the rest of his life using ASL? Could he just write down things to everyone? It would definitely be easier to not say something stupid if he had time to look over his words before anyone had to see them. He would probably mess that up, too, though.

“...Oh.”

Once again, the sound of Connor’s voice brought Evan out of his mental rabbit hole. Connor had opened the book and was holding a baby blue post-it note that had been placed inside the front cover. Going by Connor’s eyes, there was a note on it for him. The look on his face was some mixture of surprise, disappointment, and frustration. With a tired sigh, he closed the book and put it back where Zoe had left it on the top of the stack.

 

**9:47 a.m.**

“Look who’s up,” the nurse said. Evan wasn’t sure if he meant to sound so passive-aggressive and sarcastic. Perhaps he had, seeing how Connor flipped off the nurse without a second thought. “Good to see you, too, sunshine,” he replied, pulling a thermometer out of the pocket of his scrubs. “How’s your throat?”

“Feels like someone shoved a bigass tube down there,” Connor growled. The Connor that Evan had spoken to not half an hour earlier was gone, replaced by the angry kid everyone knew. The rasp in his voice took some of the force out of his words, though it made him seem more likely to bite someone. “And I’m hungry as hell. I’m all empty, you know.”

The nurse sighed (Evan couldn’t see his face) and stuck the thermometer in Connor’s mouth. He glowered but didn’t resist. “I can get you some crackers or water. And don’t make that face at me, you know you wouldn’t want the cafeteria food even if you were allowed to eat it. Are the fluids doing their thing?”

Connor made a vague grumble around the thermometer in his mouth. The machine beeped and Connor all but spat it out at the nurse. To his mild dismay, the nurse held on easily, ignored Connor’s laser-beam glare, and wrote down the number from the thermometer.

“Honestly, kid, I’m surprised you’re in such high spirits, considering you were dead less than twelve hours ago.”

“The fuck do you mean by that?” Connor demanded, sitting forward with a scowl.

Evan willed himself to sink into the bed. He really didn’t want to have to listen to this. He didn’t want to know why Connor was there. Even less did he want to know the gory details. He just wanted the sheets to come alive and wrap in a soundless, person-less cocoon for the rest of his days. Or just sleep forever. Sleeping forever sounded like a really nice idea.

No such luck.

The nurse met Connor’s eyes with ease. “Exactly what is sounds like. You took too much, you were having seizures, then you weren’t, then your heart stopped. Right when everyone thought you were in the clear, too. If it hadn’t been for squirrel boy’s mom,” he jerked his thumb at Evan, “you might not be alive. She’s the one that saw your breathing stop. She spent the better part of an hour after her shift ended down there with you, making sure you really were in the clear this time ‘round.” The nurse turned to look at Evan. “Are you sure you can’t convince her to stay forever? She does great stuff here.”

Evan shrugged, still trying to shrink into the bed. “Not my call.” _It’s the only thing she does for herself. I can’t take that away from her_.

“Well, I tried.” Back to Connor. “I’m guessing you don’t want any visitors, right? Same as last time?”

 _Last time._ How many times had Connor been to the hospital? And what for?

Connor hesitated, pulling and twisting at the blanket around his hands. Thinking. Debating. “Not until I’ve eaten,” he decided. “Even if it is just a few fucking crackers.”

“Tell you what, I’ll get you all the crackers I can hold if you give me a urine sample first. You can even do it in the restroom a few doors down. If nothing else, it’ll give you a few minutes away from the drip.” The nurse pointed to the inside of Connor’s left elbow, where the IV tube was hooked up to a needle port of sorts taped to his arm. It made it easier to change the meds being pumped without having to put in a new needle every time. Evan still had patches of stubborn glue on the inside of his arm from the tape that had been there when he’d gotten his own. He wanted to badly to scratch it off, but his arm was too preoccupied with the cast.

“Fine,” Connor agreed, slumping back grumpily.

The nurse smiled. “Cool. Give me a minute, alright?”

Connor did ultimately give the urine sample willingly. So willingly, in fact, that he threw the - thankfully sealed - sample cup at the nurse ( _Avery_ , Evan had finally remembered). Avery either had outstanding reflexes or had been expecting the outburst, because he caught the cup expertly and gave Connor a shit-eating grin. Connor replied with a dark scowl and a strong middle finger.

“Get it out while you can, kid,” Avery said, pulling a handful of cracker packets out of his pocket and placing them in Connor’s lap. “Buzz me when you feel like people. Your mom left a couple hours ago, but your sister's been here a little while now.”

“She's already been in,” Connor muttered, fiddling with the packaging of the crackers. “While I was sleeping.”

“Sh-she was only here a couple minutes,” Evan blurted. Avery turned to look at Evan with an arched eyebrow. Connor glanced up at him curiously with a motion so brief that Evan wasn't sure if he imagined it or not. “Didn't even say anything,” Evan finished, looking down at his cast. _I doubt she even noticed that there was anyone else here._

_She certainly wouldn’t have noticed me._

It was horrible to think about his stupid crush on Zoe with her brother lying in a hospital bed not ten feet away. If anything, though, she would avoid him even more than she already did now that she would associate him with her brother lying in a hospital bed. To be fair, she didn’t avoid him; she just didn’t know he existed. So, really, she would have to know about his existence to avoid him, which meant that this hypothetical future-Zoe that he’d just dreamed up actually cared about Evan more than the current one did. In some strange, not-that-great way. Again, association with the hospitalized brother. But hey, it’d be something.

He could already hear Doctor Sherman’s voice.  _You’re overestimating and underestimating at the same time, Evan. You overestimate people’s reactions and you underestimate their capability for understanding._

He meant sympathy, not understanding, of course. He meant that Evan could get more pity points if he stopped being such a nervous wreck. Or maybe if he was even more of a nervous wreck. Evan didn’t know how to turn his wreckishness up or down, though - it wasn’t a goddamn dimmer switch - so he didn’t bother with follow-up questions. He wouldn’t need it to begin with if he knew how just to turn it off like Jared had halfway through seventh grade.

Well, Jared was a mess, but he wasn’t a freak about it. He was messy in the way a teenager was supposed to be.

“So do you want me to send her in or not?”

This time it was Avery that cut through Evan’s thoughts. This time, however, his transition out was accompanied by a jerk of his head that Connor almost certainly noticed. Evan cursed himself internally and looked away, trying to find something to distract himself with while Avery and Connor talked. He really shouldn’t have been listening to them this long, to begin with.

It was only then that he remembered the bag on the bedside table with his crappy old iPod Touch and headphones. Not earbuds, of course, but the big, clunky ones that covered the entire ear and were only found in computer labs, recording studios, and on people on airplanes. The doctor had said earbuds were problematic even without a concussion, so giant headphones and instrumental music it was. One website had suggested podcasts, but the talking just made Evan sleepy, and the doctor would be in soon to do a final check up on him.

So that’s what Evan did. He pulled out the iPod and headphones as quietly as he could and tuned out the other two in the room. It wasn’t his place, no matter how curious he was.

 

Zoe did not end up coming in - at least, not before Evan left. The doctor ran a few final tests before officially releasing Evan shortly before noon. He reluctantly accepted Avery’s offer to help him get dressed (not that trying to get dressed one-handed wouldn’t have been embarrassing in its own right). When he re-entered the room, wearing a real shirt for the first time in what felt like months, what little pride he had was bruised, but he was comfortable. Heidi was waiting in the doorway, holding his bag and smiling warmly. The circles under her eyes looked darker than usual, but Evan figured they probably matched his.

“See you around, Hansen,” Connor said as Evan walked by. He was reading one of the books Zoe had dropped off, scratching irritably around the needle in his arm every few minutes.

Evan faltered mid-step, knowing he had to reply but forgetting what he had to say. “You too,” he managed, quickly and quietly and distinctly nervous. Probably a good description for how he rushed out of the room, too.

He didn’t see the way Connor’s brow crinkled at the sight. Had he, however, Evan would have assumed that he had offended Connor Murphy and would be lucky to make it through the rest of the summer alive. Heidi, on the other hand, saw the look that crossed the face of the young boy she had saved and wondered if that’s how she looked at Evan. Curious, concerned, and with a want to say something more but not knowing what.

Then again, maybe she should ask how the boy knew Evan’s name before getting to anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think, maybe? Oh, and did anyone catch the Book of Mormon reference?


	2. relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six weeks later, there are a few unexpected encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a bit of projecting in here, as well as a mom joke and some incredibly nerdy thought processes at the end. Sorry in advance for confusing anyone.

**Six Weeks Later**

Evan didn’t expect to see Connor Murphy before summer’s end, but life was full of surprises. He was at Target with his mom, trailing a few steps behind her as she walked through the aisles, picking out what she deemed necessary. Frozen dinners, mostly, along with a few more polos for Evan because she wanted to splurge and the fabric was just so _soft_. He needed a refill on his meds, too.

They had twenty minutes to wait before the refill was available, so Heidi went to get something ridiculously sugary from the Starbucks while Evan walked through the pitiful book section. What wasn’t redundant teen fiction was self-help books, celebrity autobiographies, and adult fiction that somehow all had the same cover. Maybe a few classics, if one was lucky. Evan snorted when he saw the copies of _1984_ wedged in between realistic fiction and Nicholas Sparks. Normally, even the most cliche-looking of books would have their blurb read by Evan if he needed to pass the time, but only having one hand gave him a good excuse to just scan covers and make predictions based on them while still letting his mind wander.

It never lasted long. They had an aisle and a half for books, and Evan was a fast thinker. Luckily, the movie section was right next to the books, and it was much less sparse. This, somehow, was more entertaining. Going through and looking at the descriptions of movies he’d heard of but hadn’t seen was somehow more engaging than books.

It was the only bad thing about Target.

“This is the movie Zoe liked, right?” a woman’s voice asked from the other end of the aisle. Evan perked up slightly at the name Zoe but didn’t turn his head.

“That's the one, yeah,” a familiar voice replied. This time Evan did look up. Connor Murphy was standing next to a woman (presumably his mother) looking bored and tapping his foot impatiently. “She went and saw it with her jazz friends a hundred times. Don’t know how you forgot it.”

“I didn’t _forget_ , Connor. I just...couldn’t recall perfectly. There’s a difference.”

Connor rolled his eyes and huffed. “ _Right_. Forgetting is a sign of age, 'not recalling' is a sign of ag _ing_. You’re not old, you’re just getting there. Dad, on the other hand-”

“Should we get the regular DVD or Blu-Ray?” Connor’s mother interrupted hastily, pointing to the shelf. “When was the last time we had a family movie night?”

“When was the last time hell froze over?”

“Do you remember the date of your last snow day?”

Evan couldn’t help it. He laughed; it was a good joke. As soon as the sound escaped his mouth, he slapped his hand over it, though that somehow was even louder. He looked down the aisle and caught a glimpse of the pair looking at him. Connor seemed to be resisting a small smile, while his mother looked quite proud of herself. There was a distinctly maternal edge to her smile.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Evan apologized, tugging at the hem of his shirt with his good hand.

Mrs. Murphy gave him a fond smile. “No, it’s fine! Good to know my sense of humor isn’t totally outdated. Not to everyone, anyway.”

“Hey, I was gonna give you that one,” Connor argued, the tiniest bit of defensive aggression shining through. “But now no one will ever hear it from me.”

Evan looked down at his feet. A small, involuntary noise he’d made had ruined a moment. Typical. Was he really that pathetic? Connor hadn’t outright said that the joke was inherently bad if a loser like Evan had found it funny, but it was pretty heavily implied.

“Not that anyone would believe you made a good joke,” Connor added, reaching past his mother to grab the DVD she had been considering. “I’m just not saying you didn’t.”

Well, maybe Evan had been wrong. Then again, the original statement had felt directed towards him, rather than the latter, from which he was distinctly excluded.

Or maybe Evan was overthinking things and should go find his mom.

“There you are!”

Heidi’s voice at his shoulder made Evan jump in surprise. There was no involuntary noise this time, but there was a visible tension that overtook his muscles.

“It’s just me, kiddo,” Heidi reassured, rubbing Evan’s back. “I picked up the refill and paid for everything there. Ready to go?” Evan nodded, not trusting himself to speak properly. “Great. Oh, hey there.”

Heidi stopped in her tracks as she moved past Evan and spotted Connor and his mom. Connor ducked his head and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, clearly wanting to disappear into it. He couldn’t be sure around the curtain of hair, but Evan was fairly sure he saw Connor’s jaw clench.

“Hi,” Mrs. Murphy said, suddenly looking much more tired. “Heidi, right?”

Heidi nodded, adjusting her bags awkwardly. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Murphy. Especially great to see Connor out and about,” she added hesitantly, reaching out behind her for Evan’s good arm and dragging him away with a polite nod to the Murphys.

“Mom?” said Evan, once they were out of earshot of the Murphys. “Mom, you’re hurting me.”

Heidi released her grip immediately and slowed her previously frantic pace. She sighed loudly and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just...you know what, it doesn’t matter. I really shouldn’t talk about patients to begin with.” Evan nodded in understanding. “Actually, do you know that boy, Connor? I think he goes to your school.”

Evan hesitated, trying to find a way to explain his barely-existent relationship with Connor Murphy. “Well, I mean, I’ve had classes with him on and off since first grade, but I wouldn’t say I _know_ him know him. It’s more of the kind of thing where you know who they are but you know absolutely nothing about them as a person, you know? I don’t think I ever talked to him before the hospital, though. He doesn’t,” Evan paused, feeling the familiar twist of painful truth in his gut, “he doesn’t exactly have...friends.”

Heidi nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s a good kid, you know. Just victim to his circumstances.”

Evan didn’t know how to answer to that. He just stayed quiet and followed her through Target to the car. Neither of them said a word until about halfway through the drive home, when Heidi blurted, “I yelled at his parents.”

“What?” Evan couldn’t believe his ears. His mom never yelled, especially not at strangers.

“It just...came out,” she continued. “I’d been talking to Avery and he mentioned how many times he’d seen this kid fall into the same pattern while his parents just throw money on the problem and take no steps to solve it or even consider it and it made me think of how you were and what happened to Mia and…” she trailed off, choosing to focus on the road instead of continuing her story. Evan couldn’t push her to keep talking, not after she brought up Mia.

Mia was a blessing and a curse in Evan’s life. She was the reason he was in treatment for his issues, but she was also the reason why his mother held him so tightly. Evan often wished that she would loosen her grip, but he couldn’t imagine what life would look like if she did. He couldn’t exactly tell her to put it in the past, either. That would make him just as cruel and selfish as his dad. He had to be better.

“He overdosed on prescription pills,” Heidi said hoarsely, breaking the silence she had created. “You can’t tell anyone this, okay? He OD’d and he was _dead_ for almost a minute and I had to perform CPR while someone ran to get the defibrillator because they thought he was in the clear. And his father was just there in the lobby full of...contempt. This kid has been in and out of the psych ward from overdose after overdose and blatant suicide attempts-”

Evan winced. Too close to home.

“And his parents were talking like he was throwing a fit. As if he were a misbehaving toddler. I can’t...I can’t imagine what that must be like. So, in a moment of,” Heidi cleared her throat, “poor judgement, I may have lectured his parents about how they were neglecting their son’s mental health. Maybe more loudly than necessary. And public.” A beat of silence. “But hey, I didn’t get fired! And it’s been six weeks since he’s been hospitalized and he looks like he’s got that new-med haze to him. Which, you know, isn’t always great, but it means that something is _happening_ , at least.”

 _Or he could just have found something new to get high on_ , Evan thought. Though that’s not what she wanted to hear, so he kept it to himself. It was silent on the drive home, save the warm static of the radio.

 

**Later That Day**

“Holy shit, Evan broke his arm!”

Evan groaned internally. _Jared._ Jared Kleinman. Home three weeks early. As if the day wasn’t uncomfortable enough, now he’d have to interact with his crazy neighbor. The closest thing he had to a friend, and the closest thing he had to a bully. Like Connor had said, he was too much of a loser to even be a target.

“Jared, language,” Mr. Kleinman scolded halfheartedly.

There was no fence between the Hansen front yard and the Kleinman’s, so Jared just darted across the lawn and got in Evan’s face, totally ignoring his father’s existence. Why wasn’t Evan that lucky?

“How the hell did that happen?” he cried. “You never leave the house.” Jared gasped and leaned in secretively. “Did you set some kind of world record and break your arm jerking off?” he whispered excitedly.

Evan felt his cheeks go hot. “I-I don’t think that’s even possible.”

“Oh, _come on_ , Hansen, let me have some fun!”

“I’ve never stopped you-”

“Yes, you have. Come on, I’m gonna tell you what I did in Michigan.”

Without another word, Jared grabbed Evan’s good arm and dragged him across the lawn, into the Kleinman house, and upstairs to his room. Heidi offered no help, only calling after Evan to ask he be home before dinner. Evan had done this song and dance enough times to know trying to get out of it would be worthless. Besides, Doctor Sherman liked when he interacted with other people, regardless of how miserable they made him. It was better than nothing.

Jared did, in fact, tell Evan what he did while visiting his mom in Michigan. In more detail than Evan thought necessary for describing something clearly fabricated. He bit the inside of his cheek at the comment of ‘a girl from Israel who’s going to be in the military’. Military service was required after completing high school in Israel, but it was probably better not to mention it. Evan got by just fine letting Jared ramble and fill the room while he nodded every so often to show he was paying attention.

“No, but seriously, Evan, how did you break your arm?”

“Ifelloutofatree,” Evan muttered, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you,” Jared said in singsong.

“I fell out of a tree,” Evan said, only slightly louder but more enunciated.

Jared blinked at him, too shocked for words. “Seriously? Is this like a Parks & Rec Ben Wyatt ‘the calzones betrayed me’ moment for you? Will you ever love again? Shit, I can’t imagine how it must be going outside, seeing all this arbory and having to live with the knowledge that you live on their farts. Must be agony, dude.”

Evan shrugged. “It’s been okay since I recovered from the concussion.”

“Concussion? Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

“I’d rather not-”

“You know what I meant. Was it painful? Did you have a hot nurse - I mean, other than your mom-”

“Jared!”

“What? She’s a good-looking lady - watching over you in the hospital, caring for your every need?”

“I was in the hospital on observation for 72 hours.”

Jared frowned. “Why, was it a suicide attempt or something?”

Evan froze. “W-why would you think that?” he stammered, feeling his hands get sweaty.

“Well, that’s the standard for suicide attempts, isn’t it? They have to keep you at least 72 hours, don’t they.”

“Oh,” Evan nodded, trying to remember how to exhale. “N-no, it wasn’t anything like that,” he tapped his leg for a few seconds while trying to remember words. “It was - they were - I just,” he stopped and took a shaky breath, not daring to look Jared in the eyes. “To make sure I didn’t make the concussion worse,” he explained finally. Why had that been so hard? It had been the truth, technically. He hadn’t been there on suicide watch. He wasn’t lying.

Jared shrugged and leaned back in his beanbag chair, appearing satisfied with the answer. “So no hot nurse?”

“Not unless you think five-foot-tall middle-aged ladies and Avery are hot.” Avery actually was objectively hot, but Evan wasn't going to risk Jared going off on him for something else. Jared wasn't homophobic, but he was a no-holds-barred kind of person when it came to insults. Staying quiet was generally Evan's best bet.

“Who’s Avery?” Jared asked, reaching over to grab the controller for his video game console.

“The only male nurse on the floor. I think he only just got out of nursing school, too. Though he didn’t really check on me, he was more there for Co-” Evan snapped his mouth shut before he finished the sentence. That would have been a whole different kind of disaster.

“More there for what?” Jared asked suspiciously, looking at Evan over the top of his glasses.

“The other patients,” Evan responded weakly. “In the recovery room, you know. I was just sitting there, you know. Low maintenance.”

Jared still didn’t look convinced. “It sounded like you started to say something else.”

“Did it?” Evan asked with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t think so. I knew exactly what I wanted to say, I just got distracted by a,” his eyes darted around the room, “a really fat squirrel that appeared in the window. It’s gone now,” he added quickly when Jared turned to look for it.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jared said darkly, gaze not leaving the window. “That fat fucker’s been teleporting in and out of view for _months_. He loves to taunt me. Was he taunting me? You can tell when they’re doing it with squirrels. They do this thing with their front paws that’s distinctly intended to mock.”

“I-what?” Evan was at a total loss for words. His dumb squirrel excuse had _worked_?

The Kleinmans were a weird family.

 

**Two Days Later**

“So, Evan, what’s new? Anything happen this week?” Doctor Sherman settled into his seat, smiling warmly.

“Jared got home from Michigan early,” Evan replied, looking down at his nails. “Asked about my arm. We pulled up right as he was unloading his stuff from his dad’s car, so I got dragged up to play video games for a couple hours.”

“When was this?”

Evan thought for a moment, trying to remember the day of the week. Everything blurred together in summer. “Tuesday,” he answered, fairly certain of himself. Two days previously.

“Any contact with him since?”

Evan shrugged. “He texted me a couple times. He dropped off some cookies from his dad. So yeah, I’ve been busy.”

Doctor Sherman smiled at the halfhearted joke. “Well, that’s not bad. And you said ‘pulling up’ just then. Did you go out?”

“Sort of. We just went to Target to refill my prescription and grab some other essentials. Nothing important. The trip, I mean. Or the fact that I went out on the trip isn’t anything important.” Evan was scrambling again, looking too closely at what he said and feeling the need to elaborate on everything.

“So it was uneventful.”

Evan hesitated half a second before nodding, remembering the awkward incident with the Murphys and the way his mom had spilled a secret to him on the drive home. He’d promised not to tell anyone, though he wasn’t entirely sure if doctor-patient confidentiality applied to nurses. Still, he had made a promise, and he had made it to his mother. He couldn’t let her down. He was enough of a disappointment to her as it was.

“You’re thinking of something,” Doctor Sherman said matter-of-factly, still managing to sound peaceful.

“W-well, I’m kind of always thinking of something, aren’t I? That’s kind of the thing with being awake; your brain is up and running and there’s no way to really stop thinking so we’re always thinking of something no matter what’s going on. Even when you’re dreaming, your brain is working to make these dreams, so you’re thinking, but it’s more like being in a movie, because you’re not knowingly in control of your dreams, like there’s some outside force reading your mind and stringing together these hallucinations based on whatever’s been going on recently or something that you’ve been repressing - also a fascinating concept, if you think about it, repression. You’re thinking so hard about not wanting to think about something that it eventually stops happening. Kind of a paradox, really. And it’s not a double-negative canceling thing, either. One is a positive action and the other is negative, so you multiply and you stay with the negative, it’s just a bigger negative. Unless it’s a positive decimal, then it gets smaller, but it’s still negative.”

“It’s an addition problem,” Doctor Sherman said, interrupting Evan’s ramble.

“It - what?” Evan frowned, trying to comprehend the logic Doctor Sherman had found in his illogical chatter.

“It’s an addition problem,” he repeated, still radiating his friendly warmth. “When you add a negative and a positive, you don’t always get a sign change, right? If you add negative three and four, the answer is one. Or if you add negative four and three, the answer is a negative one. Putting together a positive and negative can give you a positive or a negative, depending on relative size. So repression works in the sense that you have a distasteful memory - which we’ll say is positive five - and then the effort of pushing it away, which we’ll say is a negative point-two. It doesn’t get rid of the number right away, but it chips away until it’s small enough to be dragged over the line into negatives or just overshadowed by a different memory, good or bad. It’s still on the number line, but it’s much smaller than the majority of other memories. That make sense?”

Evan nodded. He wasn’t in AP math like Jared, but he was good enough to comprehend Doctor Sherman’s explanation. It was uncanny how he managed to make sense of even the most senseless of things Evan said.

Though not as uncanny as how effectively Evan had rambled his way out of mentioning the Murphy incident.

His time was up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again. But I got a new chapter up quick! Can you tell it's the end of the school year and I don't want to think about anything important (like that SAT I'm taking tomorrow....)?


	3. something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glance into the Murphy household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after the Target scene from the last chapter, just for reference.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Connor deadpanned, dropping the grocery bag on Zoe’s lap as he passed. “There’s a thing in there for you.”

“Don’t, Zoe,” one of her friends whispered urgently as if Connor couldn’t hear. “It’s gonna be a dead mouse or something.”

Zoe gave her an incredulous look. “A dead mouse? In with the shampoo and the hair ties and acne cream,” she listed, pulling item after item out of the bag, “and stress toys and - ooh, Anna Kendrick!” Zoe nearly squealed as she pulled out the DVD box. “That was nice of Mom, I’ll send her a thank-you text. She’ll probably see it in the next six hours.”

“God, you’re so lucky,” groaned the same friend from before. “You can do whatever you want because your parents are gone all day, and meanwhile I’m only here because my crazy neighbor offered to babysit my brother for free while she’s between summer internships.”

Zoe shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like I can do _anything_ I want. I have to watch out for Connor, which obviously makes him hate me more. I didn’t even realize that was possible, but at least now we’re both the bad guy. Speaking of, did you see him go upstairs?” She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of her brother’s whereabouts.

“I think he went down the hall,” said a different friend, pointing where she saw him go.

“Shit,” Zoe muttered, scrambling off the couch, “that’s my dad’s office.” Not even bothering with her friends, Zoe rushed down the hall, her socked feet slipping on the wood flooring, only to find her dad’s office was still undisturbed.

“I’m over here, dumbass,” called Connor’s voice. It was coming from the garage, accompanied by the clinking of someone rummaging.

“What the hell are you doing?” Zoe demanded, pushing open the slightly ajar garage door and following the sounds of commotion.

Connor did not answer but instead called out “Think fast!” exactly half a second before nailing her on the forehead with a stiff baseball glove.

“What the _fuck_ , Connor?” She stepped over the glove and rubbed her forehead irritably. “What the fuck in general! Why are you in here, of all places? It’s just old junk no one uses but Mom is too sentimental to get rid of.”

“Looking for some shit,” Connor answered vaguely, digging through a box of old toys.

“Whatever for, brother dear?” she snapped, knowing getting angry at him wasn’t going to make things any better, but not having any other emotions readily available.

“To throw out of the window in the guest bedroom. See if they can make it into the pool.”

“Jailene wanted to use the pool.”

“Well, she can find a way to stay out of the line of fire one way or another, can’t she?” He pulled out a handful of plastic dinosaurs. “These will do great, don’t you think? Besides, I know Jailene is always going on about how cute and tiny our pool is in comparison to hers. She’s not gonna ask to use it, so stop wasting your breath on bullshit.”

“If I took your advice, I’d be much worse off than I am now.”

“I don’t take my own advice and I’m still in a shitty place. I don’t think it’s meant to be taken.” Connor grabbed some toy cars from an adjacent box and dropped them into the messenger bag sitting at his side.

“Connor…”

“Fuck off, Zoe,” he growled, much less apathetic than he had been a moment before. “I’m not hurting anyone, I’m not destroying property, and I’m not gonna make a scene. I feel like throwing shit, and since I can’t throw lamps or books or chairs or myself out a window without going back to the loony bin, I’m going to hurl old, useless crap into the pool and see how unsatisfying of a splash they make. No harm done. See?”

Zoe froze momentarily. _Or myself_. She was supposed to say something if he seemed like he wanted to hurt himself and meant to do it. But Connor was showing reason, trying to find other ways to satisfy his violent urges without causing damage. Did she have to say something then? It would probably be safe to do so anyway, as her brother had mentioned jumping out of a window, but -

Her thoughts were interrupted when Connor pulled out a toy airplane. It was faded and dented and missing a wing and a propeller and had not seen the sun in years, but there it was.

After all these years, after all that had happened, they had kept the plane.

For a singular irrational moment, Zoe wondered if it still smelled like the grass of the orchard.

“You should let Dad have the honor of dumping that one in the pool,” Zoe said quietly, attempting a joke.

Connor snorted, setting the toy down next to the box. “He’d fuck it up. He always does.”

Zoe opened her mouth - to say what, she wasn’t sure - but was interrupted by Jailene’s voice from the hallway.

“Hey, Zoe? You alive out here?”

Connor’s jaw clenched as his rummaging slowed.

“In here,” Zoe replied, just loud enough to be heard from the hall.

“Listen, honey, I gotta head home now. My neighbor has some family emergency and can’t watch my brother the rest of the night. I’ll text you, okay?”

Zoe ignored the look Connor was giving her. “Yeah, whatever. What about Lily?” She’d had two friends over. If Jai left, she’d have to bring Lily into the garage or risk being rude. At least Lily wasn’t phased by Connor.

“Lily got a call from her mom. She’s heading out, too. I’m gonna drop her off. Bye, Zo.”

Jailene didn’t even wait for a reply from Zoe before going back the way she came. Zoe sighed. Maybe she should have just stuck with her jazz band friends after all. Jailene was too much work for too little reward. She clearly only hung out with Zoe because she had nothing better to do while her other friends were on vacation in Cancun or Paris or wherever they went.

“You gonna help me or what?” Connor asked, sliding a box across the floor towards Zoe. The box was filled with Barbies, most of them half-dressed and messy-haired. Several were missing limbs - the Ken dolls, in particular, tended to be decapitated.

She remembered far too vividly the delight that came from popping off one of the squishy, plastic heads and _squeezing_. She only stopped because her parents stopped buying her easily decapitated dolls after Connor mentioned her habit to them. Oh, how things had changed. Connor had been able to throw a printer with minimal consequence at age 7, but nine-year-old Zoe had her doll privileges revoked because Mattel made them easy to vandalize.

And because Connor had said something.

What a difference saying something made.

 

Zoe whooped as the plastic truck bounced off the deck of the pool and hit the water with a _plunk_ before slowly sinking to the bottom, where a number of old toys and random knick-knacks were already living. Most of the Barbies - the first to go - were able to float, and so became unofficial targets.

“Who’s next?” she asked, turning to Connor, who was lining up more toy ammunition.

Connor held up a Mr. Potato Head doll. “I’m gonna watch this fucker fly. His ass compartment hated me, and you _know_ he’s gonna have a good sink.”

Zoe laughed. She did remember countless occasions in which Connor had pulled at the toy’s compartment to no avail before taking to smacking it against the ground until it popped open. Eventually, they stopped storing parts inside the compartment and fit as many as they could together, creating some nonsensical Picasso-esque creation.

She was thrown out of her memories as Connor nudged her away from the window as he lined up his shot. Without a second’s hesitation, Connor pulled back his arm and let the plastic potato fly, watching with morbid delight as it arced through the air, bounced off one of the floating Barbies, hit the pool with a splash, and sunk.

“I hope that traumatized Barbie,” he said, reaching down to grab another Potato Head.

“I think she’s plenty traumatized by now,” Zoe pointed out, shifting a plastic T-Rex between her hands.

“What the hell are you two doing?” a deep voice demanded, cutting their conversation short.

Connor and Zoe both stuck their heads through the window and saw their father standing on the deck of the pool, arms crossed and looking distinctly not happy with them. His serious demeanor was significantly undercut, however, by the toys scattered around his feet and in the pool behind them.

“Blowing off steam?” Zoe supplemented, trying out an innocent smile.

“And what, exactly, am I supposed to make of this?” Larry asked, gesturing to the scattered toys.

“You’re the one that complains about us not playing like we used to,” Connor called back, his face a mix of triumph and bitterness. “Look, we’re playing with our toys like we used to!”

Larry sighed and rubbed his hands over his face in exhaustion. “Zoe, I thought you had people over.”

“They had more important things to do,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug, though her tone did not support it. “Besides, I’m doing what you said. See? Connor’s right here.” She pointed to her brother, who raised his hand and waved sarcastically to emphasize her point. “I’m keeping my eyes on him.”

Larry, not feeling like debating teenage logic, conceded to himself that did not appear to have damaged anything of importance. He was at least fairly certain that those Ken dolls had been missing their heads already. “I expect you both to clean this up in the next twenty-four hours. Until then, put the screen back on the window and get downstairs. You’re helping me make dinner before your mother gets home.”

 

**Ten Minutes Later**

“Oh, what to trust me with,” Connor remarked, “the knives, the stove, or the boiling water?”

Ignoring the comment, Larry handed him a jar of tomato sauce. “Great. Stove it is,” he deadpanned. “I’m guessing that means I’m on onion duty, too?”

Larry scoffed. “I’m not letting either of you go anywhere near the onions. You prep the ground beef.”

“My nail polish is chipping.”

“Then put on some gloves. At the very least wash your hands. Who knows what those old toys picked up in the garage. We’re going to be giving your mother a heart attack as it is. Better leave it at that.”

“Why _are_ we doing this?” Zoe asked suspiciously, filling a pot with water. “You’re home early from work and we’re having spaghetti bolognese like when we were kids. Packed with carbs and meat and grease. Next thing you’re gonna say is that you got a liter of Cherry Coke and we’re gonna watch _The Princess Bride_ while eating dinner on the couch.”

“Two liters, actually.”

“What?”

“Two-liter bottle of Cherry Coke. It’s in the fridge with the ground beef. And if you want to watch something other than _Princess Bride_ , that’s fine by me. So long as it’s funny.”

Connor and Zoe shared a confused look. “Have we entered the Twilight Zone?” Zoe asked, genuinely concerned. They hadn’t done anything like this since she was in sixth grade.

Larry shrugged. “I had a rough day at work and I didn’t feel like some vegan, gluten-free dissatisfaction at 8 p.m. Sue me. I’m a good lawyer, I can defend myself just fine.”

Connor groaned at the last comment. “Nope. If the jokes start, I’m getting the fuck out.”

“No beef for you, then.”

Connor hung his head in defeat. It had been a while since they’d had real meat, and even with his lowered appetite (thanks, meds), he still craved it. “Fine,” he conceded, “but you’re gonna have to remind me how to do the beef. It’s been like five years.”

For some reason Connor didn’t quite understand, his father seemed to take great pleasure in explaining the process to him. He wasn’t laughing or grinning, but he was happy in the quiet way he got, speaking more gently and delighting in patience. Even as his eyes brimmed over with tears from cutting onions, he gave directions calmly and without concern. His ease spilled over to Connor, who stopped fidgeting anxiously and was able to relax into the motion of stirring the meat sauce and the warm smell wafting up. Similarly, Zoe allowed herself to be drawn in by the hypnotic sight of spaghetti swirling around in the pot, becoming more and more like kelp in a tide as the boiling water loosened them from sticks to noodles.

A comfortable quiet settled over for the house, likely because each family member was able to temporarily forget that the other was there. Still, even when dinner was done and the Murphys migrated to the living room with warm bowls in one hand and fizzing, cold cups in the other, there was much less awkwardness than usually accompanied such occasions. Zoe hesitated to watch her new movie in front of her father, but if her father and brother could make a meal without losing it with each other, perhaps a bit of crude humor would stand, too. Besides, there was singing, and no matter how tough he tried to be on the exterior, there would always be a part of Larry Murphy that remained a little boy whose favorite days of the year were the ones where he got to see a show on Broadway. He could appreciate a movie about college a capella.

Probably.

 

Cynthia wasn’t particularly happy with them when she got home, but did help herself to a small bowl of spaghetti (Zoe had made a batch of gluten-free for her) and saved her complaints until after the movie. Connor and Zoe offered to put away the leftovers from dinner so they wouldn’t have to bear witness to another argument between their parents. It had been such a good evening thus far.

Even after everything was stored away in the fridge, the dishes were washed, and the kitchen counter and floor were clean, Cynthia and Larry were still conversing sharply in hushed tones. Zoe, knowing this would go on for a while longer, went into her father’s office and lifted the false bottom of one of the drawers on his desk. Underneath it was a single silver key, hardly two inches long and still glistening like new. Clutching the key tightly, she tiptoed back into the kitchen, where Connor was helping himself to a massive glass of soda. Zoe shook her head but gave no criticism.

Connor watched as Zoe unlocked a drawer and pulled it open, cringing slightly at the way the pills rattled inside their bottles as she did. Her brother took several gulps of his soda. It took Zoe a moment to remember which pills were what - her mother usually did this - and Connor wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Zoe turned and showed him her open palm, where three pills of varying shape and size were resting.

“Is this right?” she asked quietly. Nervously. Slightly afraid.

A few days after he got out of the hospital, Connor had blown up at his father for getting his nighttime cocktail wrong and then spent half the night pacing his room, occasionally waking Zoe up if he raised his voice or stepped heavily.

Connor spent a few seconds too many staring at Zoe’s hand. She’d painted her nails baby blue in the past few days, going by how intact the paint was. Zoe took this hesitation as a sign that she’d done something wrong and began to draw her hand back. Connor reached forward to stop her, and before she could think, Zoe had jumped backward and the small of her back had collided with the granite of the kitchen countertops. She grunted with the impact and the sudden surprise of pain but was otherwise fine.

There was no noise from the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Cynthia asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway. Her voice was full of concern and her eyes panic. Connor ducked his head, clenching his jaw. The glass of soda wavered back and forth in his hand.

“It’s fine,” Zoe assured, straightening and rubbing the sore spot on her back with her free hand. “I was just giving Connor his meds and I slipped a bit, that’s all. No harm done.” She held up the handful of pills for her mother to see.

Cynthia nodded skeptically, but let it slide. Zoe wasn’t one to hold back when it came to exposing her brother’s behavior, and there was no good reason why that would change now. “Alright, just had to check. And good memory, sweetie,” she complimented, seeing the right combination of pills. “Connor?”

He didn’t raise his head, but he did reach forward and carefully pick the pills from his sister’s palm one at a time and popped them in his mouth, chasing them down with another gulp of soda. After swallowing, he set his glass down on the counter, raised his head, met Zoe’s eyes, and stuck out his tongue.

Smiling slightly, Zoe pointed upwards. Connor opened his mouth and showed her the underside of his tongue. Then, without being asked, he hooked a finger in either cheek, pulling his mouth wider for her to see inside. Smothering a giggle at how ridiculous he looked, Zoe gave him a satisfied nod. Connor’s hands dropped back to his sides, where he proceeded to wipe his fingers on the front of his jeans.

By now, Cynthia was slightly confused but knew for sure that Connor hadn’t acted aggressively towards his sister. She took over from Zoe in putting the meds away and locking the drawer. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered, looking between her children. They both gave identical nods of recognition and then looked down at their feet.

They probably weren’t even aware that they did it.

The siblings stayed in the kitchen after their mother walked away, going to put the key back in its hiding place.

“I think we’re off the hook for now,” Larry remarked, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. “At least until tomorrow morning when she sees the backyard. I’m taking the Fifth when that happens.” He checked his watch. “Nine-thirty. That’s a reasonable time to go to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning. Don’t stay up too late, alright?” He hesitated. “Well, if you do, keep it on the quiet side. Remember, you’ve got a backyard to clean in the morning.” He passed through the kitchen to give Zoe a kiss on the forehead and Connor a gentle but affectionate pat on the shoulder. It was little, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It was _something_.

Connor and Zoe watched as their father exited the kitchen and climbed the stairs. Their mother followed shortly thereafter, stopping at the base of the stairs to blow them a kiss. Now it was just the two of them, standing together in silence. Not knowing what to do next. The past few hours had been the most unhostile interaction they’d had in several years.

“I’m probably not going to want to talk to you tomorrow,” Connor admitted quietly, dumping the last of his soda down the sink. “Not because of anything you did. I’m just...worn out. Today was more than I’m used to. Might take me a day or two to even back out.”

Zoe nodded. “Thanks for being honest. It’s cool that you’re aware, though.”

Connor shrugged. “Doctor talked about it yesterday. I thought it was a load of bull at the time, but now it makes more sense.”

“Time does that.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was my Connor? What did you think of Zoe? Let me know!!
> 
> Additionally:  
> 1) I meant to make this chapter longer. I kind of liked the awkward ending, though. It better reflects them, I think.  
> 2) Yes, they watched Pitch Perfect. I can't say I've got a lot more Ben Platt references up my sleeve, though.


	4. discomfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The simplest things in life present as the most difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's shorter than others! It's intended as more of a filler, but I hope it'll give some insight on Jared as a person.  
> Enjoy!

“We passed five gas stations on the way here. Why are we at this one?” Evan usually didn’t question Jared’s motives, but this was too strange yet harmless to not say something.

Jared gave him an incredulous look. “Um, they’ve got the best candy aisle in town, Hansen. Well, the _three_ best candy aisles, to be more accurate. Come on, live a little! You can get five things, I’m buying.”

“Why?” Evan asked again, understanding his neighbor/family friend’s motivations no better than before.

“The old dude across the street gave me $300 for fixing his computer even though it took me barely fifteen minutes. Figured I’d treat myself before I put the rest in the bank. College or whatever.”

“Not your car insurance?” Evan muttered, more darkly than he had intended.

Jared scoffed. “You know how much that shit is? Mom can pay for it.” There was an edge to the latter part of the statement that made Evan want to take a few steps back. “But seriously, any five things you want. Consider it incentive to not shun me after I obliterate you at Mario Kart™ later.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. If you're treating yourself, then why am I here?”

Jared groaned. “Just grab some junk food and stop overthinking for once, Evan. I’m doing a nice thing. End of story.”

Evan blinked at him a few times before saying, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, my god!” Jared cried out in frustration, tugging at his hair. This time, Evan really did take a few steps back. His shoulders hunched, his head lowered, his good hand started tugging at the hem of his shirt, and his teeth bit into his lower lip. Jared saw this reaction, saw how the timid kid he still didn’t know how to reach out to went from uncomfortable to panic mode in the blink of an eye.

He was sick of it. Sick of not understanding, of not being understood. Of shouting into the void and getting barely an echo in return, of wearing a pile of masks where Evan got an invisibility cloak, of compensating for the gap in his personality with talk of money and sex and masculine things and nothing serious, ever. He was sick of watching Evan be Evan, who couldn’t hide his disdain for Jared because he had no poker face, who only allowed himself to be pulled around and belittled because it fulfilled the instinctive human need to be around other humans aside from his mother. Sick of watching so many ridiculous sentences spill out of his mouth that when he was honest, he sounded even more insane.

Sick of not knowing how to stop.

Jared groaned and stomped down the aisle, looking to find the most sour candy he could. He hated sour candies, to be honest, but something about the awareness of the acid in his mouth was somehow calming. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Evan standing exactly where Jared had left him, looking at his surroundings like they were much larger and he much smaller than they actually were. He scratched at his left arm, right above the top of the cast. It was still pure white; no one had bothered to sign it. Evan or Heidi hadn’t even doodled on it. Jared remembered when he was eight and his mom broke her arm, he had spent the better part of an hour drawing random shapes and creatures on the light green surface with a black Sharpie. He’d cried when he came home from school one and the cast had been gone without warning.

She hadn’t even taken a picture of the drawings. Not any of them. They were just gone. Jared and tripped and fallen as he ran tearfully towards his room, resulting in a bruised and bloody nose and a pair of broken glasses. Back in the present, Jared pushed his glasses up as he rubbed his eyes.

Why was this getting so much harder?

“Oh. You again.”

Jared’s head snapped up at the sound of Connor Murphy’s voice - a reflex that could be just as beneficial to have as detrimental. Luckily enough for Jared, Connor didn’t notice him. He was too busy talking to Evan.

 _Hold up_.

Pause, rewind, and zoom the fuck in. _Connor Murphy_ , social outcast, likely drug addict, person who dressed like walking into Hot Topic felt, and terror extraordinaire, was talking to _Evan Hansen_ , the kid so anxious he would spend all day every day in his room if he could. In the ten years Jared had shared classes with Connor and Evan, there had never been even the slightest sign of familiarity between the two, much less anything resembling a conversation. He’d been gone less than two months. What the hell happened in the meantime?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Connor apologized (since when the _fuck…_??), almost too quietly for Jared to hear from down the aisle. “I meant,” Connor trailed off, hands waving in a way supposed to finish his sentence. He gave up after a few seconds. Straightened his posture, made an effort to look Evan in the eyes, and tried again. “Hey, Hansen.”

“Y-you can call me Evan,” Evan replied hastily, looking at a point over Connor’s shoulder. “I mean, Hansen is my name, too, but it’s not my _name_ name, you know? Like I wouldn’t call you Murphy - unless you prefer it, I don’t know - ‘cause it’s part of your name, but it’s not the part of your name dedicated to you.” Evan trailed off once he managed to look at Connor.

“You’re a weird little thing, you know that?” Connor said, somewhere between fascination and amusement. Jared clenched his fist.

“There’s putting it mildly.”

Jared swore there was an audible thump as his jaw hit the floor. Evan Hansen did _not_ make self-deprecating jokes. Grossly pathetic, somewhat depressing attempts at humor, yes. But Jared hadn’t thought he possessed quite the level of self-loathing required to shit on a shit pile with his name on it.

This was supposed to be a quick candy run. Why was nothing ever simple?

Connor frowned, cocking his head to one side. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Jared couldn’t see Evan’s face, but he knew the look that was probably there. Dread, embarrassment, panic. His mouth making an ‘o’ shape, but no sound coming out. Painfully awkward, even for Evan Hansen.

“Con, get a move on,” yet another familiar voice said, neither irritated nor particularly pleased.

Oh, so Zoe was here, too. And apparently now making public appearances with her brother, something that hadn’t happened since the early days of middle school (for Zoe, anyway, who was a year behind her brother).

Zoe sidled up next to her brother and gently bumped his arm with her shoulder. Her already present smile brightened when she saw Evan (again, what the _fuck?_ ).

“Evan, right?” she asked, pointing to him with a packet of M&Ms. Evan nodded, definitely not trusting himself to speak.

“Hansen,” Connor added, shooting his sister a knowing look.

Zoe’s eyes widened. “No way. It was your mom that yelled at my parents?”

The only words that could have described Jared’s everything in that moment were _what in the everloving fuck?_ Heidi didn’t yell at people, much less filthy rich people with utterly terrifying/unbelievably gorgeous children. Oh, Evan was going to spill _so hard_ later.

Evan hesitated, then nodded. “She described it as a,” he stopped to clear his throat, “a lecture. With raised voices. In public.”

Zoe laughed. “Yeah, I know. I was there. I wish I’d recorded it.”

By this point, Jared was edging closer to Evan, having decided that he would buy Evan the entire gas station if he got the story behind the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Do I even want to know what he’s doing?” Connor asked, glaring over Evan’s shoulder at Jared. His standard aggression was back in place, blue eyes trying to turn Jared to stone.

“Trying to see if that’s _actually_ your hair,” Jared bit back, instantly on the defensive. “There’s no fuckin’ way it grew that fast. Tell me your secret. Did you take anti-baldness medication when your mom ran out of Xanax for you to steal? Or are you on some weird new back-alley shit that makes your hair grow fast? Is that why you’re wearing a jacket in July? Are your pit hairs a foot long by now?”

Connor’s lips were curled into a snarl and he was practically shaking from all the tension in his muscles, but he stayed in place. It was almost more terrifying to see him like this, wound up and ready to pounce, but straining himself with the effort of pushing it all down.

“Jared, come on,” Evan plead, turning to face him. “Just this once.”

Jared’s stomach twisted painfully. The dozens of possible endings to the statement flew through his brain. _Don’t be a dick. Leave him be. Be a nice person. Don’t be you._ He stayed frozen in place, not knowing how to pull out the stinger of his words. You can’t pull something back in once it’s been throw to the wind.

It was Zoe that broke the tension, leaving her brother’s side, marching past Evan and getting in Jared’s face, eyes alight with anger. She stopped just short of him, taking a moment to clench and unclench her fists and take a deep breath before trusting herself to speak. “I get how you feel,” she said, almost too quiet for Jared to hear. “I understand endlessly more than you possibly could.” She glanced down at her feet in something resembling shame. “But then,” she looked back up and met his eyes, “but then I remember that he’s a _person_. I don’t know about you, but it tends to do me some good when others treat me like a person, don’t you think?”

The pained, angry glare in her eyes made Jared’s stomach clench both in fear and in discomfort, as if he was seeing something he should not. Thankfully at a loss for words, he nodded like a bobblehead, shoving down panic at the way Zoe’s lip curled in repulsion for a brief second before going back to neutral. He dared not glance up to look at Evan or Connor. No, he was an ant and Zoe Murphy was both the magnifying glass and the ray of sunlight.

Zoe leaned in towards Jared. “I know you think he’s a freak,” she murmured, “sometimes I do, too. But so does he. He hears it over and over until it becomes his truth and-” she shuddered, “and it gets _worse_. Don’t put kindling on the fire if you don’t want the flame to rise.” She took a step back and turned up her voice. “Think on that, jackass,” she snapped, grabbing a packet of Red Vines off of the shelf next to her before marching back to her brother and dragging him away to a different aisle.

Once they’d been gone long enough for Jared to unfreeze, he shuffled down the aisle to Evan, who was staring blankly at the space in front of him. His right hand was pulling and twisting the hem of his shirt.

“Hansen,” Jared said, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Still, it did the trick, and Evan jumped slightly and turned to face Jared, taking a half step back as he did (personal space and all that). “You wanna head back? We can do stuff another time. Got a whole summer still, right?”

Evan nodded hesitantly, darting glances towards the front door of the gas station. Jared patted him gently on the shoulder and led the way out, trusting Evan to hang around in his shadow. There was a brief second where, out of the corner of his eye, Jared swore he caught a glimpse of Connor Murphy raising a hand as if in a wave. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at Connor or Evan.

Just like most else, it wasn’t for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, what did you think of my characterizations? Or just the chapter in general? I'm always eager to know!!


	5. three's company (pt 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoe delivered a playful tap - it was much too soft to be a kick - to the side of her brother's shoe. “This isn’t a run-in. This is just us being creepy.”

When he was a kid, Evan had been in the habit of using the peephole at the door every time, even if he knew who was on the other side. Now, at seventeen, he was beginning to think that getting back in the habit of doing so would have its advantages. It wouldn’t have changed the fact that there were three people on his porch when there was supposed to be one, but it would certainly have kept him from opening the door so wide.

Every so often, one of his mom’s friends would be getting some sort of takeout or food to-go and offer to bring some over to Evan, knowing how tight they were on real food. This week it was Avery: the handsome, unflappable young nurse that everyone either loved or hated. And who had taken to calling Evan a squirrel after finding out that he fell out of a tree. And who, for some reason that escaped Evan, thought it would be a good idea to show Connor and Zoe Murphy where he lived.

Evan had been so taken aback by the sight of the siblings that he had tried to slam the door shut without moving himself, resulting in a particularly painful hit to the side of his leg.

“Y-y-yu-you,” Evan struggled to begin his sentence. He took a shaky breath before trying again. “You, uh, you brought more than Mom said you were,” he told Avery, trying to ignore the two teens standing behind the nurse.

Avery shrugged and handed him the plastic bag with his dinner. “If you can’t eat it all at once, save it for later or leave some for your mom. That easy. No need to thank me, no need to pay me back. Normally I would’ve just dropped the bag on the stoop and sent you a text, but these two,” he jerked a thumb at Connor and Zoe, “didn’t want to give you a heart attack when you opened the door. I told them me being here wouldn’t exactly lessen their chances, but…” he trailed off, making a face that said ‘what can you do?’

 _Not lead them here, for starters_ , grumbled a voice in Evan’s head.

True to his word, Avery gave a curt nod and left without giving Evan a chance to thank him, leaving three very uncomfortable teenagers alone on a porch. Evan really wanted to fidget with his shirt, but the arm that wasn’t in a cast was busy with a bag of takeout, so he settled on tapping his foot.

It was Connor who finally spoke up. “We wanted to-” he stopped and cleared his throat, “We wanted to say sorry, for what happened the other day. You were,” he winced at his next words, “you were kinda obviously uncomfortable, and we just made it worse. I-I’m not going to blame anything on Kleinman, I’m the one who got him started-”

“And I shouldn’t have blown up at him,” Zoe added. Connor and Evan both gave her an incredulous look. What she had done was nothing close to the category of blowing up.

“Anyway, we ran into Avery at the store and he mentioned what he was doing and so Zoe suggested…” Connor trailed off, looking down at his shoes, hair falling in front of his face.

Evan swallowed around the throat lump. “You guys didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured, fighting the way every muscle in his body was screaming to run inside, close the door, and lock it. God, he must look so tense to them. “Actually,” his brain spat out, not consulting the throat lump (as it had a habit of doing when Murphys were involved, it seemed), “it was a little better for a second there when you talked to me. Kinda, kinda snapped me out of it. Whatever _it_ was, I guess.”

Zoe smiled warmly. Connor looked up at him with an optimistic glint in his eye.

“Oh,” Zoe exclaimed softly, reaching into the back pocket of her shorts (these had stars on the cuffs just like her jeans) and pulling out a folded piece of paper and extending it to Evan. “Some of my jazz band friends and I are doing a performance at the ampitheatre in Ellison Park tomorrow evening, if you’re interested. It’s not a social event or anything, but Connor mentioned how you like the park and I know even the most indoorsy of us need an excuse to get out of the house every once in awhile. Besides, you’ve run into us Murphys by chance twice this week, why not add a deliberate run-in to even it out?”

“You mean other than this one?” Connor commented with a snort.

Zoe delivered a playful tap - it was much too soft to be a kick - to the side of her brother’s shoe. “This isn’t a run-in. This is just us being creepy.”

“Glad I’m not the only one who thinks that,” Evan added, chuckling awkwardly. Connor looked up through his hair, throwing him a half-smile surprisingly similar to Zoe’s ( _they’re related_  Evan reminded himself). The tension in Evan’s shoulders released slightly.

“Don’t come if you don’t want to, though,” Zoe added quickly. “Or if you can’t, obviously. Zero obligation whatsoever. I even wrote it on the note with the time and everything, just in case you needed a reminder.”

Evan looked blankly between the folded paper tucked in his fingers and Zoe’s friendly, encouraging smile. He’d spent so long hoping that she would notice him that now, once she actually _did_ notice him, he had no clue what to do. Evan managed to stutter out his thanks and a hasty ‘good night’ before retreating back into the house and slamming the door behind him. He turned the lock with a firm click and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door, taking a moment (maybe several; time always passed differently when he was panicking) to steady his racing heart, feeling the way it sped up with each inhale and slowed down with the exhale. Evan stayed like this a while, focusing only on the sound of his breath coming in and out and the faint beating sensation in his chest until he was almost drowsy from the exercise.

And with that, Evan went back to his room, delaying only to grab a fork from the kitchen. He flopped onto his bed with a sigh of relief, waking up his laptop with one hand as the other removed the takeout box from its bag.

It was usually finger food, something Evan could eat one-handed with ease. Avery, of course, was never so considerate where Evan was concerned, so he’d gotten Evan a very heavily packed sandwich. Not something that can be consumed one-handed. Evan sighed and opened the sandwich to pick out its individual contents. Mostly he ate the barely warm steak fries in the box, but he had some of the lettuce and avocado of the sandwich, as well as a few bites of chicken.

He just wasn’t much in a mood for food.

Red Mountain Dew, on the other hand, was the exact sickly sweet, no-chewing-required sustenance he needed. Evan sucked on the straw steadily as he scrolled through Tumblr, slipping into a timeless limbo of photos and words and brief glimpses into lives too absurd to be real.

Not that Evan knew much about living, but he knew enough to be skeptical of certain anecdotes. Every so often his eyes would stray to the folded piece of paper sitting a few inches away from his laptop. After too many nervous glances to count, he finally gave in and reached over and unfolded it.

_Ellison Park Summer Jazz Concert_

_Tomorrow, 7pm, Lewis Amphitheater_

_Admission is FREE!!!!!_

_IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T COME_

_I SWEAR I WON’T BE UPSET_

**_YES, I’M SURE!!_ **

_\-- Zoe_


	6. three's company (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan, Connor, and a concert.

_Ellison Park Summer Jazz Concert_

_Tomorrow, 7 pm, Lewis Amphitheater_

_Admission is FREE!!!!!_

_IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T COME_

_I SWEAR I WON’T BE UPSET_

**_YES, I’M SURE!!_ **

_\-- Zoe_

Evan couldn’t help but smile at Zoe’s handwriting. Despite clearly being written somewhat last-minute, her handwriting was still easily legible. Slanted and loopy, perhaps, but much neater than most people could manage in a hurry. Really, the fact that she had thought to handwrite him an invitation at all mattered endlessly more than her handwriting, but he hadn’t processed that yet, so handwriting it was.

He had to go. He wanted to go - going was a logical next step for normal people - and she wanted him to go, and nothing was standing in the way of him going. He had to go. He was going to go. He’d just tell his mom about it, and she’d drive him. She was off the next night and liked jazz and the amphitheater. No objections.

This was something he could actually do.

And he was going to do it.

 ---

Evan did not, in fact, end up asking his mother to take him to the concert. He didn’t even mention it to her.

He didn’t have to. She came home around 4 the next day, carrying bags of groceries, talking with Jared’s dad. They were chatting about something or another as they came in, the latter setting bags down on the kitchen counter with practiced ease. Evan was standing at the end of the hallway, feeling much too awkward for someone in their own home with people they had known as long as they could remember.

“Hey, Evan,” Kip Kleinman greeted, giving Evan a friendly smile. His inherent friendliness always unsettled Evan. This was Jared’s father, after all; there was no way they hadn’t picked up bits of personality from one another over the years. Evan was always waiting for the day that Kip casually made some rude remark about someone or something that made him flinch. It still hadn’t come. “How are you doing, kiddo?”

“Oh, pfft, you know me,” Evan exclaimed, trying way too hard to sound casual, “same old, same old…” he trailed off, chuckling nervously.

“Is that teen slang for something?” Kip asked, addressing no one in particular. “Because Jared says the exact same thing and I can’t figure out what that is.”

“You don’t know what Jared does during the day,” Evan decided.

“Is that all it is?”

He shrugged. “He’s not going into detail because he didn’t do anything with details any different from the day before. You know he just plays video games, watches cheesy horror movies, and finds weird cat videos to send me, right? That’s literally all he does.”

“Well, that explains it. He’s got a job, you know.”

“Really?” Heidi squealed, suddenly excited. “Little Jared has a job?”

Kip nodded. “He doesn’t start for another couple weeks - he wasn’t supposed to come home from Michigan this early - but it’s there. His idea, believe it or not.”

“Where is it?”

“Some place at the mall, I can’t remember. I’d have thought he’d want to work at Best Buy or something, but he proved me wrong. It’s one of those places that sells soaps and the like. Can’t remember the name.”

Evan frowned. “Lush?”

Kip snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He told you about it?”

“I thought he was joking.”

“Nope.”

Before Evan could even think to reply, Kip kept on talking.

“You know, this is totally off-topic, but I was just telling your mom about a concert in the Lewis Amphitheater tonight over at Ellison. Some of the kids from your school’s jazz band, if I’m not mistaken. Jared is staying in, but I was wondering if one or both of you would like to come along. Some jazz and outdoors sounds nice to me.”

Evan nodded, trying to contain his eagerness. There were few things in the world quite so wonderful as not having to ask for something, and Evan had not been looking forward to asking for this, much less explaining his motivation for wanting to go.

Heidi smiled. “I thought you might like to go. It’s been so long since you’ve been to the park, and I figured if anything you’d just want to wander around the trails. I don’t expect you to actually care about the concert -”

“No, mom,” he interrupted, “I want to go to the concert. The amphitheater is big enough that I’ll be fine.”

She looked pleasantly surprised. “Well alright, then. Kip was going to stay for dinner, and then we can all go together from here. Is that okay?”

Obviously, Evan didn’t say no. Thankfully, Mr. Kleinman wasn’t much interested in Evan, having established that he’d get no more out of him, and so the time spent preparing dinner was used to ask Heidi how things were going at the hospital, oohing and ahhing at her stories, and chattering away about his day at work. Kip Kleinman was a regional manager for Starbucks, and he certainly had the demeanor of someone who spent their life around coffee. They never ran out of the stuff at the Kleinman house.

The time between when Heidi arrived and when they left for the park passed both very quickly and far too slowly. Around 5:30, Evan started checking his watch every eight minutes. By 6:15, he was checking it every four. By 6:25, they were out the door and Evan was in the backseat of his neighbor’s prized vintage Cadillac, swiping through his phone while he ignored the adults in the front seat. Well, with the exception of the times when he listened to see if they were talking about him.

At 6:42, they pulled into the parking lot at the park. At 6:48, they arrived at the amphitheater. Evan had spent the past six minutes commiserating his failed exit of the car with himself, and as a result had tripped three times. Thankfully, he’d been walking behind his mother and Kip and was something of a master at pretending pain wasn’t there.

The amphitheater was more packed than Evan had thought it would be. There were clusters of teenagers scattered around - generally either up in front or more towards the back - as well as a number of middle-aged and elderly couples. Down on the stage, Zoe and a few other kids were finishing setting up, checking instruments and getting everything in order (Evan wasn’t sure what, exactly, that was; he didn’t know shit about music).

Despite knowing he wouldn’t sit near any of them, Evan scanned the groups of teens as he slowly descended the amphitheater steps, trying to identify people out of sheer force of habit. He jumped when he felt something bounce off of his shoulder. Evan looked over his shoulder and saw Connor Murphy standing a few rows below, holding what appeared to be a small handful of pebbles.

Evan gave him a puzzled look. Connor shrugged. Still somewhat wary, Evan went down to join him.

“Were you going to use those all on me?” he asked, gesturing to the handful of rocks.

Connor looked at his open palm as if he had no idea how the pebbles had gotten there. “I, uh, don’t really know what I was going to do with them, to be honest.” His head snapped up suddenly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Evan frowned. “You hit me on the shoulder with a pebble from twenty feet. When has that ever hurt anyone?”

“I dunno. People seem to be extra fragile around me. Anyway,” he barrelled on, not giving Evan any time to process the previous statement, “my parents are gonna want to keep me in their line of sight,” he pointed down to a couple seated down a few rows, “so if you feel like sitting with me, I’m warning you now.”

“From what I remember, your mom’s not so bad,” Evan offered, having forgotten how to say ‘nah, it’s cool’. “Didn’t she always make those giant cookies at holidays in elementary school?”

Connor shook his head, starting his way down the steps. “Different ginger housewife. She wasn’t a housewife yet at the time, for starters. Was never big on elementary school holiday celebrations, either. And she can’t bake cookies to save her life.” Connor said the last sentence in a slightly raised voice, meant to draw the attention of his parents as they approached. It worked, as a couple - the woman Evan recognized as Cynthia Murphy and a man who was presumably her husband - looked up at the sound of Connor’s voice and gave him two different looks of displeasure.

“I’ve gotten better,” Cynthia argued good-naturedly. “They don’t come out burnt anymore.”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure how you managed that when you left them in the oven at the same temperature and for the same amount of time as the rest of us,” her husband added.

Cynthia shrugged. “So cookies aren’t my thing. I got a Ph.D. in mathematics, not chemistry.” She turned her eyes to Evan. “Hello again, honey. Evan, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“You two going to be sitting together?” asked Mr. Murphy, looking at Connor.

Connor nodded. “Yeah, we’re just going to be a couple rows in front of you. Win-win. Bye.” With that, he went down three rows with ease, his long legs carrying him as if he were on stilts. Evan, though somewhat tall, was not made of legs like Connor was, and had to follow behind him somewhat awkwardly, as he always did. Connor settled in a spot two rows in front of his parents, close enough that they could talk to each other if they wanted to and far enough that they couldn’t hear each other if they wanted to not be heard.

“People are pathetic,” Connor laughed. Evan gave him a confused look. He pointed at a group of kids from their school sitting near the front. “See those jackasses? All here to hit on Zoe. I guarantee you that any bunch of kids from school here have at least one person that wants to hit on her. Idiots,” he shook his head, looking almost as if he were sorry for them. “It’ll be great to see it blow up in their faces, though.”

“W-well, how do you know that?” Evan asked. “Is she,” his voice caught, “Is she seeing someone or…” he trailed off at the incredulous look Connor gave him.

“Zoe dating? Fuck, no. My dad had this strict ‘no dating until 16’ rule, and since Zoe’s birthday last month, guys have been going nuts, but joke’s on them.” He leaned forward and pointed towards the center of the amphitheater seats. “See the blonde pair sitting alone?”

Evan nodded. He’d seen them on the way down the stairs. One boy and one girl, sitting together, in the middle of it all but somehow seeming like they were in their own pocket universe. The girl looked frustratingly familiar, but the boy was a stranger. Evan said as much.

Connor nodded. “Yeah, that’s Lily Applebaum.”

Evan could have smacked himself. Lily Applebaum was the wholesome, all-American girl everyone thought existed only in movies. She had been a cheerleader, star member of the debate team, and was the kind of effortless beauty that had people falling on their faces and choking on air. She had graduated back in June. Despite not being valedictorian, she was popular enough and close enough that they let her give the commencement speech.

What she had to do with Zoe, though, Evan had no clue.

“Okay, and? Who’s that with her? What does Lily have to do with the guys?”

Connor tugged and twisted a lock of his hair. “Well, Miss American Pie is the reason why none of these dumbass boys have a chance in hell with my sister.”

Evan was sure his eyes bulged out of their sockets. Connor’s laugh at the look on his face only strengthened that belief.

“Man, I wish I had a picture of that,” Connor cackled. “Your face is fucking priceless, man. Seriously, why is it always such a shock to people that my sister likes girls? The best ones are the guys who act like the world is imploding, though. They look so damn confused that I just don’t have the heart to tell them she’s not a lesbian. Not that they’d believe me, but,” he shrugged.

“So what, she’s bi?”

Connor gave him an impressed look and nodded. “Yep. And crushing on Lily Applebaum, though she’d never admit it in a thousand years.”

“So who’s the guy, her boyfriend?”

“Nope. Her brother.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ”

A half a decade later, there were still rumors going around about Ben Applebaum. Ben was a loner, even by Evan’s standards, and had been mysteriously pulled out of school early one day after a fight at lunch. He’d never come back, and Lily stopped hanging out with friends at her house. Eventually, she’d reported that he was being homeschooled, but offered no further detail. The kids that lived in her neighborhood talked about him like he was some sort of Sasquatch or Loch Ness Monster.

_‘At 4:15 pm on Saturday the 3rd I saw Ben Applebaum at the window of his bedroom.’_

_‘Maggie said she saw Ben Applebaum leaving the supermarket last Wednesday.’_

_‘Every Tuesday at 10 am he goes out and gets the mail.’_

The list went on and on. Despite how much he hated the way people talked about Ben (who he remembered as being something like a quieter, nicer version of Jared), Evan was still intrigued by the sight of him out and about. It had been five years, after all.

“Yeah, she doesn’t talk to anyone when he’s around. Not much, anyway. There goes Zoe’s opportunity, down the drain before it even existed.”

“I didn’t realize that Lily’s-”

“She’s not,” Connor interrupted, seeing where Evan was going. “Not even a little. Zoe just likes being around her even though she knows it won’t turn into anything.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Evan murmured, looking to the stage, where Zoe walked up to the microphone and gave it a few taps.

“Hey, everybody!” she greeted cheerily. “Welcome to the Ellison State Park Summer Jazz Concert. I’m Zoe Murphy, from the Five Pines High School jazz band, and I’m here with some of my band friends. We’re gonna get you started for tonight. Alright, enjoy!”

There was a round of applause as she stepped back from the mic and to her spot, where she nodded to the drummer, who started them off.

It was a tune Evan had heard before, relaxing at some parts and chaotic at others. The bass didn’t feature much in the first number, but Zoe had a solo in the second. Evan found himself transfixed on the effortless way her fingers went up and down the neck of the instrument as her other hand plucked at strings. Her hands somehow functioned in tandem and as separate entities. Throughout the entire song, her foot would be tapping along to the beat, and occasionally her head would join in. She never stopped smiling.

Evan couldn’t find it in him to stop smiling, either. It wasn’t a grin, but a small, warm thing that expressed affection and happiness. For the twenty-eight minutes that Zoe was playing, Evan was at peace. The music, fresh air, and hypnotic movement of Zoe’s hands on her guitar had all quieted his mind. Even when the set was over and the amphitheater broke into applause, he still felt warm.

“She’s good, huh?” 

Evan nearly jumped at Connor’s voice. Not because he’d spoken, but because he had leaned in so close to say it. He felt Connor’s breath ghost along the side of his face and caught a whiff of something earthy and sweet, partially masked by mint. Evan nodded his reply, not entirely trusting himself to speak. 

Connor didn’t seem to notice. He kept watching his sister. The next group was setting up their instruments, and a small cluster of teenage boys had gathered near the stage, all trying to get Zoe’s attention in one way or another. “Desperate bastards,” he muttered. “Fucking pathetic. I bet they don’t even give a shit about the music.”

“I didn’t think you’d care so much,” Evan whispered. Connor snapped his head around to lock eyes with Evan, who had brought his good hand to cover his mouth, absolutely horrified by what he just said.

Connor kept his gaze on Evan’s face as he breathed in and out heavily through his nostrils, clearly fighting some sort of emotional battle. His eyebrows twitched, his lip curled, his fingers curled and uncurled a fist. After several moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, Connor let out a loud exhale and dropped his head into his hands.

“You and the rest of the world,” he grumbled, voice slightly muffled. “I don’t blame you, though. I’m shit at everything, but I’m especially shitty to Zoe.” He put his head back up and ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s go sit up with my parents. I’m sure they’ll have something weird to talk about.”

Evan had barely nodded his agreement when Connor stood up and went back up the way they came, plopping down next to his mother in a matter of seconds. Evan took longer, opting to go to the actual stairs instead of climbing up the stone benches of the amphitheater. No one seemed to mind.

“Is your mom here with you, Evan?” asked Cynthia as he sat down next to Connor.

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s,” he craned his neck to see where, exactly, his mother was, “right down there with Kip.”

“Kip,” Cynthia echoed. “What a nice name. Is that her boyfriend?”

Evan snorted. “Definitely not. He’s our neighbor.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” Connor pointed out.

“Well yeah, but he’s Jared’s dad.”

Connor frowned. “Kleinman?”

“Uh-huh.”

“His parents are split. Mom lives in Michigan. Everyone knows this. Still not mutually exclusive.”

Evan was trying his hardest not to roll his eyes or groan at Connor, if not both. “He’s  _ gay _ , Connor.”

“There it is.”

“The handsome ones always are,” Cynthia lamented. Evan laughed.

Mr. Murphy frowned. “Thea, are you aware how many times you’ve used that word in reference to me?”

“What, gay?” she asked, playing dumb.

“No, handsome.”

“And after what I said just now you’re equating the two?”

“Well, no, but,” he stammered a bit, trying to figure out his argument but coming up with nothing. Connor was gleefully recording all of this.

“Don’t worry, Larry,” Cynthia said reassuringly, patting her husband’s face, “I always start by calling you cute.”

Connor gagged exaggeratedly. Evan laughed hard enough that he almost missed the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that he had a text from his mother.

_ Those kids from your school are really talented!!! P.S. if you want to leave early it’s ok with K & I. _

Evan smiled as he typed out a reply.

_ Thanks but no thanks. I’m great where I am. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've learned some more about the second of my OCs! I'm really excited for you guys to meet Ben in the future.   
> What did you think?


	7. three's company (pt 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act 3 of 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoe's perspective! It's a shorter chapter because it's kind of a filler, but there's more content coming up, don't worry. Oh, and there's some really bad jokes.

It took almost forty minutes for Zoe to politely decline her throngs of admirers and make her way up the amphitheater seating to her family, where her parents gave her hugs and Connor hesitantly held out a fist and warmed slightly when she bumped her knuckles with his.

“I’m glad you could make it, Evan,” she said, forcing a gap between the two boys so she could sit (despite knowing there was plenty of room on Evan’s other side). “So, does this even things out?”

“You forced Avery to take us to his _house_ , Zoe,” Connor groaned. “Nothing is ever going to even that out.”

“You _what_?” Cynthia demanded, now readily concerned.

“Dude, it’s Avery. We didn’t make him do anything,” Zoe reminded her brother, rolling her eyes. “Hey, Con, did you see-”

“Lily Applebaum?” he finished, seeing through her poor attempt to change the subject. “Yes, yes I did. Her brother, too.”

Zoe’s heart sank. Ben was a sweet guy, but him being around meant Lily wouldn’t be able to talk for more than a few minutes, if at all. Zoe knew she was being selfish, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Lily made her feel like a little kid, desperate for the attention of the idolized big kid, clinging onto anything she could get, no matter how small and dissatisfying it may be.

“W-well, at least she came,” Evan offered quietly, probably having seen the pathetic look Zoe was sure she was wearing.

Zoe smiled. “Yeah, she did,” she agreed, rocking slightly to the right to bump Evan’s shoulder with hers as a form of thanks, careful not to hit his cast. “No one’s signed,” she noticed, frowning slightly.

Evan flushed. “Oh, yeah, that. I, uh,” he tripped over some excuses before giving up and just saying, “I don’t have friends.”

“Well, we’re going to fix that,” Zoe decided, patting her pockets before going through her purse. “Aha!” she exclaimed triumphantly, holding up a pair of Sharpies.

“I thought you’d have more,” Connor admitted.

Zoe shrugged. “Tiny purse. Gotta stick to the essentials.”

“Weirdo,” he said, grabbing one of the pens and squatting between Zoe and Evan. He held out his hand expectantly, and Evan gave him his arm without a word. Connor, being Connor, wrote his name in massive capital letters, taking up almost the entire length of the cast. Evan grimaced, but said nothing and thanked him nonetheless.

Zoe, cleaning up after her brother as always, drew smiley faces in the ‘O’s of Connor’s name, laughing when her brother gave an exaggerated gasp and complained to Cynthia about vandalism. She wasn’t done there, however, because she drew stars around the entirety of the cast, creating inky constellations as she went along. Zoe could feel the boys watching her, but she didn’t want to know what the look on their faces was. Instead, she focused on keeping Evan’s arm still without hurting him as she worked. When she finished and looked up, Evan’s face was one of a pleasant surprise.

“How did you break your arm, anyway?” Zoe asked, capping her Sharpie and slipping it into her bag (and pretending she didn’t know Connor had stolen the last stick of gum she’d had in there.)

“Dumbass fell out of a tree,” Connor said, popping a bubble dangerously close to Zoe’s hair.

“Connor!” Cynthia scolded.

Evan shrugged sheepishly. “Well, he’s not wrong. I did fall out of a tree, and it was pretty dumb.”

“Dumb _ass_ ,” Connor corrected.

“I couldn’t feel my butt when I landed,” Evan deadpanned. “So it was more of a numbass thing.”

Connor and Zoe both burst out laughing. Cynthia did her best to smother her giggles (she had a snorting laugh that she hated but her family loved) while Larry failed at looking disapproving. At one point, Connor started choking on the gum, but one firm smack from Zoe had it dislodged and on the ground.

“That was the last one, too,” he said mournfully, looking at the squishy pink blob on the concrete, still shining with saliva.

“That’s what you get for stealing my gum, asshole,” Zoe said gleefully. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t she?”

Cynthia threw her hands in the air. “You two and your obscenities,” she complained. “This is your side of the family, you know,” she told her husband.

“I still say it’s from all the swearing you did while you were pregnant with Zoe,” he replied, the sure sign of a common debate.

“And whose fault was that?”

“Please be dad please be dad please be dad,” Connor stage-whispered. Zoe rolled her eyes.

“Both of you,” Cynthia corrected, tugging lightly on Connor’s earlobe.

“Boys,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Aren’t they exhausting? And I say that as someone fond of them.”

Zoe turned and saw Evan’s mom and a strange man sitting behind them.

“Are you actually Jared Kleinman’s dad?” Connor asked suspiciously.

The man grinned cheerily. “That I am,” he affirmed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and handing Connor his driver’s license as proof. Zoe read the name over his shoulder: Kleinman, Kip Abraham.

“You got a weird name,” Connor informed him, handing back the card

“C’est la vie,” he said with a shrug. “Anyway, I never got _your_ name.”

“The Creature from the Black Lagoon,” Connor said, not missing a beat.

Zoe shoved him. “At best you’re Cousin It.”

“Addams Family isn’t an insult.”

“Okay, then, you’re Lurch.”

“That’s a low blow.”

“He’s the tallest, actually.”

Connor gave her the finger.

“Oh, you want to be Thing?” she asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Connor glared at her, his expression so cold it almost burned. Zoe set her jaw and met it with practiced ease. They stayed like that for a moment before Connor stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at her. Zoe made a noise of mild disgust as she wiped spit off her face.

“Okay, I deserved that a little bit,” she admitted with a small laugh. She almost missed the look of relief on her parents’ faces.

“So is it Ms. Hansen or Mrs. Hansen?” Connor asked Evan’s mom, having already moved on to the next thing.

She waved him off. “Heidi is fine. But if you feel like formalities, Miss will do just fine. Thanks for asking, though.”

Connor shrugged. “It’s the least I owe you, right? That’s what Avery made it sound like, anyway.”

Heidi tensed slightly and her smile took on a hesitant edge. “Oh, no need to think like that, sweetie,” she reassured, “I was just doing my job. Anyone else in my position would have done the same.”

“Yeah, but it was _you_ ,” he insisted.

She looked very tired now. “Connor, I don’t do my job so people will owe me things. Knowing you’re okay is all I need to be sure I’ve done my job.”

“Hell of a good job,” Kip added.

Heidi all but rolled her eyes. “Basic first aid. We’ve been over this.”

Cynthia was frowning. “I’m sorry, but what, exactly are you referring to? I feel like I’m missing something.” Zoe and Larry nodded in agreement.

Connor frowned. “What, Avery didn’t tell you? Ms. Hansen’s the one who caught it when I stopped breathing and started CPR. And then stayed past the end of her shift to be sure I was actually stable that time.”

By the time he finished talking, Cynthia was looking at Heidi Hansen in a whole new light. There was a sort of awe in her expression, matched with an almost-reverence and watering eyes. She went up and sat next to Heidi on the row above, pulled her into a hug, and began to sob, whispering " _thank you"_ over and over like a prayer. Zoe was torn between looking away and staying frozen, watching her mom pour out the last of her pent-up fear from that god awful night.

Connor was looking at the ground, toeing the lump of gum. Zoe swayed to the left slightly and bumped his shoulder the way she had Evan’s. He pushed back ever so slightly and she leaned her head on his shoulder, ignoring the way his hair was tickling the side of her face.

“You’ve got a good mom,” she told Evan, tracing her brother’s name on his cast. “Like, a really, really good mom.”

He smiled and nodded, saying ‘I know’ in a voice too quiet to hear over the music. Zoe watched a blonde pair, hand in hand, walking up the amphitheater steps, making for the exit. The world seemed to slow around them as if the universe were moving them at a different speed than everyone else. Zoe watched Lily wistfully but decided against getting up to talk to her.

Down near the stage, a group of kids from her school was sitting, talking and texting and paying little attention to the music now that Zoe had gone. Her friends she had performed with were among them.

_You don’t have to be with them all the time_ , one of them had said as she made a beeline for the stairs, already having long since pinpointed her family.

Zoe had scoffed. “I know that,” she said. “I’m doing this because I want to be with them.”

She looked past Connor to her dad, who she knew was wearing that small, warm smile that appeared in moments when it felt like everything was going to be okay. Zoe was sure the look on her face matched it well. “Those guys are dicks,” she announced to no one in particular.

Connor laughed dryly. “I was telling Hansen the same thing earlier.”

“You said they were pathetic jackasses, not dicks,” Evan corrected.

Zoe giggled, head falling forward and off of Connor’s shoulder. “Dude, I like you,” she told Evan, pretending she didn’t see the tops of his ears go pink. “You got a phone?” she asked.

He nodded, pulled a generic Android smartphone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Zoe, already knowing what she was going to ask. She typed in hers and Connor’s cell number (and the home phone) without stopping to consider even one digit. She knew them all by heart. After that, she sent a text to herself and one to Connor before putting the phone to sleep and handing it back to its owner.

“In case of anything,” she explained. “Anything at all.”

Zoe pulled out her phone from her purse, intending to add Evan’s number to her contacts when she saw that she had more texts than she’d expected.

 

_10 Unread Messages_

**Lily Applebaum:** _I just saw you!!! Well, B saw you and pointed you out to me. Love the new Docs lol_

**Lily Applebaum:** _You were so good!!!! Ben wants your set list I think he’s a little really super into it (and so am I!!)_

**Lily Applebaum:** _Okay Ben has had enough we’re headed home. Sorry we didn’t get to talk!! I’ll FaceTime with u tomorrow and gush all over you then!!!!_

 

These made up for everything. Her hopeless crush on Lily lived on.

 

**Liz J:** _Why you always gotta disappear like that??? We got a whole bunch of Starbursts for you…!! Come on back!_

**JP:** _(no subject)_

**JP:** _(no subject)_

**JP:** _You looked goooooo oo od!!!_

**Liz J:** _Update: Starbursts are gone. Your loss._

 

These…well, she couldn’t bring herself to care in the moment. She was always tired after concerts, never felt like socializing.

 

**Unknown Number:** _Evan_

 

This was the text Zoe sent herself from Evan’s phone. She added the number to her contacts and sent back a smiley face.

 

**Connor:** _Told u_

 

Zoe snorted, shook her head, and began to type.

 

**You: *** _I* told *YOU* he seemed like a good friend. Keep up :p_


	8. outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan had just gotten back from Jared’s house and did not feel at all like human interaction, but he also didn’t have the energy to lie to Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: drug mention, brief suicidal ideation, mentions of bullying

**Connor Murphy:** You free?

 **Connor Murphy:** In like 45 mins?

 

Evan had just gotten back from Jared’s house and did not feel at all like human interaction, but he also didn’t have the energy to lie to Connor.

 

 **You:** Yeah I guess. Why?

 **Connor Murphy:** Staples is having their back to school deals and my mom has a membership with them still from when she was a teacher. She’s also obsessed w back 2 school shopping it’s weird af

 **Connor Murphy:** Anyway Z and I are being dragged off and I was wondering if you’d wanna come with?

 **Connor Murphy:** That’s weird as hell idk I just don’t wanna be alone with them today

 **Connor Murphy:** Mom will be more than willing to pay for shit btw I think she gets off on it a little bit

 **Connor Murphy:** Zoe says I’ve weirded you out ok typical me see you around maybe never cool

 **You:** I guess I’ll come.

 **Connor Murphy:** oh shit you’re alive

 **You:** I had to text my mom to ask.

 **Connor Murphy:** Oh yeah people ask their parents before they do shit I forgot about that

 **Connor Murphy:** K we’ll be there in a bit later Hansen

 **Connor Murphy:** Oh and Zoe’s driving. God help us all.

 

Evan had to laugh at that. In the week and a half since the concert, Connor had done little more than complain about Zoe’s driving. She was actually quite a good driver - they both were, according to Zoe - but due to Connor’s drug habits and steady C average, he hadn’t gotten a car for his 16th birthday. Zoe, however, had, and she’d chosen a baby blue classic VW Bug that drove Connor up the walls for an ever-growing list of reasons, many of which Evan suspected Connor was just pulling out of his ass for the sake of complaining. Evan had yet to see the car, but he sincerely hoped it would be another day that he got to see it and that today they would opt for Cynthia’s car, the Prius with the tinted windows. Tinted windows that would keep Jared from seeing who he was hanging out with. He’d gotten enough shit for the concert; this would be something he would never live down.

He really needed to work on how much he let Jared’s opinions shape his actions.

 

Zoe’s car pulled up in his driveway soon after, and Evan practically leapt into the backseat of the Bug, desperate to get away before Jared mustered up the energy to make inquiries. The only thing standing in his way was Connor, whose legs were taking up the entirety of the backseat as he lounged against his door.

“Um…” Evan pointed to Connor’s feet, perched right on the spot where he intended to sit.

“Connor, do you mind?” Zoe asked irritably.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, wearing the rude, lazy tone everyone knew him for at school. “Your car has jack shit for leg room.”

“You’re the one that invited me,” Evan reminded.

Connor gave him an incredulous look. “The fuck are you talking about?” Cynthia said his name warningly. “No, I’m serious! Dad took my phone and had me cleaning the pool all morning, how the fuck could I have invited him?”

“Well, it’s a mystery,” Zoe decided, reaching back and pulling her brother’s legs off the seat. “Come on, Evan.”

Evan was mildly concerned for his safety but obliged nonetheless. He needed a way to fill his otherwise empty afternoon, and this was the first opportunity that presented itself, no matter how dubious the invitation.

“Zoe,” Connor began as they backed out of the driveway, “did you text Evan from my phone?”

She shrugged vaguely. “Mine was dead.”

“So you did.”

“That’s not what I said.”

Evan sighed through his nose. He pulled out his phone, opened his texts, and handed it to Connor. “See for yourself.”

Connor read through them. “These are from less than an hour ago,” he muttered to himself. Evan watched his eyes narrow in confusion and then widen in realization. “Nevermind, I did invite you,” he decided, handing Evan back the phone somewhat hastily, “I remember now. I’m just a dumbass.” Evan nodded, not feeling like commenting on anyone’s irregular behavior.

His phone buzzed.

 **Jared Kleinman:** I saw u dude. U kno ur gonna die in the back of Zoe Murphy’s car rite?? Hes gonna eat u

 **Jared Kleinman:** wait fuck ur sitting next to him DON’T TELL HIM I SAID THAT I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING

 **You:** Shut up Jared.

He never texted back.

 

“Connor, are you sure you don’t want a new backpack?” Cynthia asked as they walked through the store’s automatic sliding door. “You messenger bag is getting awfully worn, don’t you think?”

Connor spoke with the air of someone who had given the same explanation far too many times. “It works fine, Mom. Besides, It’s vintage.”

“It makes you look like the love child of an emo kid and a Newsie,” Zoe snorted.

“Let’s get one thing straight-”

“That’s not gonna be easy,” Zoe interrupted with another snort.

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s establish this for the _last damn time_ : I am _not_ a fucking _Newsie_.”

“Not anymore, anyway.”

“You’re gonna die horribly.”

“All death is horrible if you think about it.”

“I’ve given up on trying to stop them bickering,” Cynthia said, leaning over to Evan. “As long as they don’t start yelling, there isn’t much harm that can be done, I think. I remember my siblings used to argue all the time, and they get along just fine now.”

“You didn’t fight with your siblings?” Evan asked.

Cynthia laughed and shook her head. “No, I was too much of a pacifist, desperate to please everyone and not get in anyone’s way.”

“Nerd,” the Murphy siblings said together, though in distinctly different tones. Connor’s teasing, Zoe’s stating a fact.

Evan tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Further confirmation that I’m a nerd,” he muttered to himself, thinking aloud.

Zoe and Connor shared a look, both feeling bad. Which, of course, made Evan feel bad for making them feel bad by feeling bad and -

“Blanket term?” Zoe offered. “Besides, it’s not a bad thing, we were just giving her a hard time.”

Connor snorted. “Boy, that’s a low-ass bar. Where have you been living the last sixteen years?”

“Hey, you said it first. Ooh, there’s the pens! Later, dweebs!” Zoe speed walked away, making a beeline for packs of Sharpies.

“I’ll never understand why she likes those pens so much,” Cynthia mused, smiling fondly.

“Yeah, me neither,” Connor agreed, “it’s fucking impossible to get high off of them. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Connor!”

“I thought we _just_ established that I’m the first person to admit that I’m _the fucking worst_.”

Really, Evan had met people much worse than Connor. Or at least people who cared less about other’s feelings. He considered saying as much but opted against it. There was something too heavy about it, something that would tip the scale - and he didn’t want to find out in which direction. Instead, he asked Cynthia if she was sure she wanted to pay for Evan’s stuff, too (not that he could pay for it himself; what little he’d made as an apprentice ranger had all gone to his college fund). She laughed and told him of course she did, as well as that she’d already approved it with Heidi. Evan doubted this, seeing how his mother hated admitting how poor they were, but he let it slide.

“So, boys, what all do you need? Notebooks, binders, pens, pencils, highlighters - the usual?”

“Flashcards,” Zoe answered, dropping four packs of Sharpies into the cart. “Lots and lots of flashcards. I’m taking the PSAT in a couple months, you know.”

“It’s really not as hard as they make it sound,” Evan remarked. “I mean, not for me, anyway, and I’m a nervous wreck, so.” He trailed off, embarrassed about having said something like that.

Zoe, however, seemed intrigued. “And the SAT itself? Connor refuses to tell me about it.”

“I’ve done enough illegal shit, thank you very much,” her brother informed.

Evan shrugged. “I didn’t think it was that hard when I took it, but I only got 1300, so it can be deceiving.”

Cynthia chuckled. “Honey, I got in the 1100’s and I have a Ph.D. in mathematics from an Ivy League-adjacent university. You did great.”

“You like to talk about that Ph.D. quite a bit for someone who hasn’t used it in what, five years? Six?” Connor pointed out.

“It’s an impressive achievement! It takes years and years of dedication to earn a doctorate. It’s my pride and joy.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Zoe inquired, pretending to be offended.

Cynthia shrugged. “Come on, let’s get your stuff. I know Zoe needs a new pencil pouch, do either of you boys?”

Evan thought of his own pitiful, beaten-up, faded cloth pouch he’d had since eighth grade. It had long since seen better days and the zipper tended to get caught. Wanting a replacement but being reluctant to ask, Evan nodded, as if Cynthia would see him from where he was standing behind her.

Connor luckily, could. “Evan says yeah,” he informed.

Cynthia listed off a number of other school supplies - many of which Evan needed - and Connor passed on Evan’s confirmation to Cynthia, occasionally throwing in a ‘me, too’, until Evan was comfortable enough to speak for himself. Much of the trip ended up being Connor and Evan walking behind Cynthia, who was pushing the cart, while Zoe went off down the aisles and brought back what they needed in a variety of sizes and colors, then going back to return what they didn’t choose and moving onto the next task. The pencil pouch she got for herself, of course, was decorated with a colorful sky full of stars (galaxy pattern, Zoe had called it) and the one she’d picked out for Evan was a soft blue, like her car or Evan’s favorite shirt. The only thing that warmed him more was when Cynthia remarked on how Zoe was like a golden retriever, eagerly going back and forth, full of energy, ponytail swinging behind her.

His parents had a golden retriever who’d passed away shortly before Evan turned five. He couldn’t remember much about her, but he could remember softness, warmth, wet kisses on chubby cheeks, and throwing a tennis ball around the front yard until they both collapsed in the shade, out of breath but full of life. Apparently, when Evan had been a baby, she would grab toys from his room and bring them to him. Similar to what Zoe was doing, she would bring a toy, wait for him to either accept or reject it, then either take the toy back or go straight to grab the next. She would do this often until baby Evan took to grabbing the fur around her collar, asking her to stay instead of getting him another toy. One of Heidi’s favorite pictures - one of the few hanging on the walls in the house - was the dog laying down, her nose touching Evan’s as he held either side of her face and grinned.

“Personally, I love goldens,” Evan admitted, watching Zoe come around a corner holding a stack of binders in a variety of colors and sizes.

Connor made a noise of either of acknowledgment or agreement - perhaps both - but was cut off by Zoe pressing her small mountain into his arms. He gave her a frustrated glare, which she met with a shrug and a remark about him having the longest arms. His face said that he understood her motives and agreed with her reasoning, but was peeved nonetheless.

Zoe looked up and down the stack and frowned. “I’m not sure how many I need. My band binder is fine as is, but both the two-inch binders I got last year are dead.”

“Well, what are your classes this year?” Cynthia asked.

“Math, chem, Spanish, U.S. history, American lit, band. But I’ve got one binder already, so that leaves 5 subjects.”

“You need a notebook for chem, not a binder,” Evan mused, trying to remember what his classes from the previous year had been like. “Spanish could share a binder with English, as long as you had a divider and a lot of loose lined paper. History and math I’d say should get their own just for the amount of notes and worksheets you end up with. Oh, and the, uh, the notebook for chem would be better as a five-subject than a three. I made a three work, but only barely, since I have really small writing, so,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Zoe nodded. “So three one-inch binders or two one-inch and a two-inch?”

“Um, the two-and-one. Er, the one-inch and two-inch. The second one,” Evan fumbled out, confusing himself.

Zoe nodded and selected three binders from the stack in Connor’s arms. One red, one purple, and a dark green. Connor gave an exaggerated moan of relief as the third was slid out of the stack, hoisting his load above his head as if some great weight had been lifted. He lowered them after a moment, however, instead opting to lean against a shelf to help distribute the weight. He nodded to Evan, who quickly grabbed four one-inch binders, two in light blue, one in orange, and the last in dark grey.

“Stole my color, Hansen,” Connor joked, grabbing a single black two-inch binder from the stack, dropping it into the cart, and handing the now much smaller pile back to Zoe. “Go on,” he said, shooing her away with a push to the air. Zoe stuck her tongue out at him but complied.

“Connor, are you sure you just need the one?” Cynthia asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, all my shit from last year’s still pretty intact. Didn’t exactly get used much.” 

Cynthia frowned but said nothing. Most people in school knew this to be true. Connor, despite rarely doing homework or participating in class, managed to skate by on C’s because, by some miracle, he did well on tests, even while visibly stoned (how, exactly, no one was sure). Most of his time in class he spent looking out the window or scribbling on scratch paper. His binders and notebooks were spared a good deal of wear and tear. Especially after getting a month’s reprieve back in the spring….

But that wasn’t for Evan to be thinking about. Instead, he grabbed some bulk packs of mechanical pencils and spare graphite. Zoe gave him a mock sad-frown when she returned, having been deprived of a chore, but then remembered something else needed and zoomed away.

“How does she have so much energy?” Evan marveled.

Connor laughed. “Right? I’m tired just looking at her. I swear she’s part Energizer Bunny or some shit.”

“Could just be the golden retriever in her,” Evan suggested.

Connor laughed harder this time. “Yeah, there’s definitely some of that. Doesn’t matter that she’s allergic to dogs; she’s part golden retriever.”

“Zoe’s allergic to dogs?”

“Yep,” Connor replied, popping the ‘p’. “Her and my dad both. Start sneezing like a cartoon character who got a faceful of pepper or dust or whatever. They both have really loud sneezes, too. It’s only funny for about two minutes before the noise gets ya.”

“Are you talking about my sneeze?” Zoe asked suspiciously, coming back with a pair of plastic rulers.

Connor shrugged vaguely. Zoe looked at Evan. The shrug he gave her was less vague. All Cynthia had to offer was a tired roll of the eyes. Zoe seemed to decide against pressing the issue in favor of dropping her cargo into the cart.

“I think that’s everything,” she said, looking through the contents. “Binders, notebooks, loose paper, pens, pencils, highlighters, dividers, staplers, bubble wrap-”

“I still don’t understand the need for that,” Cynthia interjected.

“Wait ‘til you’re having a bad day,” Zoe replied, a slightly ominous edge to her voice, “then you’ll understand. Anyway, I think we’re all good. Guys, you got everything?”

Connor sighed. “Yeah, but they’re out of giant jugs of bleach, so I’ll need to find another way to deal with math class - ow!” he cried out, yelping as Zoe socked him in the arm, clearly with more force than he’d expected. He glared slightly and rubbed the sore spot, but said nothing else.

Checkout, of course, was slow-going with such a large load, so Cynthia opted to buy each of the teens a soda and let them wait by the store entrance for her to finish up. They were sitting in silence on a metal bench, three in a row, watching other customers move in and out of their line of sight.

“You know who I swear I saw earlier?” asked Zoe. “Alana Beck.”

Connor raised an eyebrow at her. “And? That girl is everywhere. Crazy overachiever. Puts the Asian kids to shame.”

“Connor, we all go to the same school. We know this.”

“I know, I just wanted to see if you had a point.”

Zoe shrugged. “She changed her hair. It looks nice. Mostly I hadn’t expected to see her around. A couple of the jazz kids made it sound like they had a pretty big death in the family recently. There’s still two and a half weeks until school starts, you know, so I was just surprised that she was out and about or whatever.”

Connor blinked at her. “You led with the thing about her hair.”

“It looks nice!”

He gave no rebuttal and instead took a gulp of soda and muttered something about Zoe having weird taste in girls. Zoe’s retort was an amused “what the hell would you know?” that piqued a corner of Evan’s curiosity ever so slightly.

“I have eyes,” Connor offered.

“So do blind people,” Zoe reminded.

“Not all of them,” Evan added, remembering some of his mom’s stranger hospital stories.

“Alright, touché.”

They lapsed back into silence from there, sipping at sodas and people-watching some more. At one point, Alana Beck did, in fact, come into view, and Zoe nudged both the boys, eager to prove her earlier point. She had changed her hair, and Evan could see why Zoe chose to point it out. Alana had gone to a different elementary school and transferred to their middle school in seventh grade, where boys and girls alike delighted equally in messing with the mass of natural curls that she kept meticulously. Eventually, she got so fed up with both the kids and the administration’s apathy that she started straightening her hair and keeping it braided or in a bun. The few times she tried a ponytail, it was pulled on and mocked. One boy had even spat gum in it, and had it not been for Jared’s proximity and childhood love of _Encyclopedia Brown_ , she likely would have lost much more hair than she did. The rest of the school day she held her head high and stayed composed despite the torn strands and the occasionally overwhelming smell of peanut butter.

From that day on, Jared and Alana had a silent rapport. She came off as the perfect, driven, model student, but struggled as much as anyone. More than once, Jared had put down his video game controller during a game with Evan in order to help her with her homework. When Evan had pointed it out, Jared had made a comment about how she talked less when she was calm, but Evan doubted that to be the full truth. For some reason, neither of them ever chose to admit to their hesitant friendship, instead choosing to use terms like ‘classmate’ or ‘acquaintance’ in reference to one another. The reasoning still escaped Evan.

The new hair was nice, though. It was either braids or twists - Evan couldn’t tell from a distance - that hung down most of the length of her back and shone raven in the harsh lights of the store. It wasn’t meticulous curls, nor was it a monotone french braid, but something in between. It suited her quite well. Evan told Zoe that he agreed with her, and it earned him a bright smile.

Connor gave a small whoop as Cynthia approached with a full cart and led the way back to the car, clearly eager to leave - a sentiment Evan understood. The ride back to Evan’s house consisted of he and Connor rummaging through the contents of the bags and sorting them based on whom they belonged to. The last item was dropped into the bag of Zoe’s stuff right as the Bug pulled up in Evan’s driveway. Zoe made a remark about perfect timing, looking for a compliment on her driving skills, which Cynthia provided while Connor rolled his eyes.

Evan’s goodbye and exit from the car were less than graceful, but he managed to thank everyone without stammering too much and didn’t trip and land flat on his ass as he went between the car and his front door, so it was all a win as far as he was concerned. He even remembered to turn and give the Murphys one last grateful wave after he unlocked the front door and before going inside.

Once behind a locked door, Evan kicked off his shoes, dropped the bags on the floor, went straight into his bedroom, and would have fallen face-first onto his bed had it not been for his bad arm. Instead, he arranged himself comfortably on his front with his face buried in the pillow and fell asleep within minutes. It had been a long day. A good day, but a long one nonetheless, and far too full of people.

The two and a half weeks until school started back up suddenly seemed like much too little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alana: *shows up 6 chapters late with a new hairdo*
> 
> Anyway, next chapter is going to be a time skip to the first day of school, so be ready for that. Otherwise, how did you like the chapter? Is my characterization still good? Let me know!!


	9. not today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked up at the clock mounted on the wall of the computer lab. Fifteen minutes until school was over. Fifteen minutes until he had to go find Evan. Fifteen minutes until he found out exactly how painfully good Evan Hansen was.
> 
> Connor didn’t want them to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: prescripiton drug abuse, detailed description of eating, vague suicidal ideation

_Buzz_

A tired hand reached blindly for the source of the sound. It was a text, of course. The message was displayed on the screen, even while the phone was locked.

 **J:** First day, right?

A sigh.

 **You:** ya

 **You:** youre fuckin lucky i got my phone back last night otherwise i’d get interrogated about who was texting me first thing int he monring

 **J:** lmao you really are still waking up

 **You:** fuck off

 **J:** Have a good day, sunshine!

 **You:** fuck no

 **You:** well at least my mom wasn’t the first one to say that to me today

 **J:** See? Positive thinking!!

 **You:** I hope you die

 **J:** Well it’s an uphill battle.

Connor didn’t bother replying. He didn’t have anything to say to that. He didn’t have anything to say to positive thinking or having a good fucking day at school. There was no such thing as a good day of school; it was seven hours of regiment and rigidity and everyone breathing down each other’s throats. The first day was always the worst, though. All the groups of friends were extra tight, the conversations extra loud and buzzing with so much more energy than usual. Just the thought of walking past cluster after cluster of cheery people was giving him a headache.

 _Fuck_ , where had he left those painkillers? They were going to be needed.

He heard the blaring of an alarm clock through the wall. It screamed four times before shutting off, and then there was a loud thump on the wall Connor shared with Zoe. She’d gone back to chucking tennis balls, by the sound of it. Connor’s head was already pounding too much to talk, so he rummaged around in his nightstand and found a tennis ball (she’d probably planted it there). Halfheartedly, he threw it at the wall, groaning slightly when it ricocheted and hit him in the leg.

There was a tap on his bedroom door, followed by his mom poking her head in. “Connor, you up?” she asked gently.

He grunted. His headache was getting worse.

“He tossed the ball,” said Zoe’s voice. From the sound of it, she was at least partially in the hallway.

Connor just wanted to burrow back into his blankets and stay huddled until the throbbing in his skull went away. His mother, however, had just been informed that he’d already done _something_ , so that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. Still, Connor pulled the blankets over his head and pretended he’d be able to get some more sleep if he wanted it badly enough.

Wanting it just made his headache worse.

“Connor, I know you’re awake, sweetie,” his mom said gently, poking her head through the door.

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, head pounding too hard to speak any louder. “I’m not going.”

He could imagine the grimace that crossed her face. “Connor, you know that can’t happen. It’s important that you go to school.”

“Nope.”

He felt a dip in the mattress as she sat next to him on the bed. “Connor,” she urged, rubbing his back, “I get that this is unpleasant, but you have to.”

“It’s hell,” Connor spat, wincing as Cynthia pulled the blanket away from his face, bringing in light his headache really didn’t need. “I’m not subjecting myself to it.”

Cynthia sighed heavily and stood up. Too late, Connor realized why she had stood up and grabbed at his sheets right as she yanked them off the bed. He was left on a bare bed, glaring, hair mussed, and head pounding like kettle drums. “Connor,” she began, much harsher than before, “get up.”

He obeyed, but threw her the coldest glare he could muster as he did. His feet hit the ground without a sound and he stood up, his expression sarcastically seeking her approval. “I’m up.”

“I can see that.”

“I’m not going.”

“Nonnegotiable.”

“I’m going tomorrow.”

“Should’ve told me that yesterday. Wouldn't have had a problem with it.”

Connor growled and rubbed his forehead, pushing away hair to do so. Arguing was making his head throb even worse than it already had been.

“Honestly, sweetie, would it kill to brush your hair?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. But hey, if you get out, I might do this magic trick where I change clothes.”

Cynthia huffed but complied, closing the bedroom door gently behind her. The second it clicked shut, Connor was across his room, digging through the drawers of his dresser. He pulled out a shirt and pants and tossed them in the direction of the bed before reaching down deep into the bottom of an overstuffed drawer and rooting around until his fingers felt plastic. Connor would have cried with relief, had he thought himself still capable of crying. Prescription painkillers, pills he’d bought off a kid who snuck them out of the trash when his mom threw them out. Connor didn’t take them often - he liked a different kind of high - but still valued them and made sure to keep them hidden. It had been sheer dumb luck that his parents hadn’t found them when they tossed his room after his semi-fatal overdose two months previously.

He had six pills left. They were strong drugs, meant to treat serious pain and to be taken one at a time. Connor took two; it was going to be a long day.

The rest of his routine was a monotonous blur. Put on clothes, haphazardly do something adjacent to arranging hair, brush teeth, drop backpack and jacket by the front door, put on shoes, go to the dining room for breakfast. Even with a pounding head and slow going, Connor still made it to the table before either his father or his sister. He sighed and ate his cereal slowly, cringing at both the echoing sound of chewing and the feel of cereal he had chewed but did not want to swallow in his mouth. He managed it, gagging slightly as the food slid down his throat. Connor felt like he would rather have his stomach pumped again before eat another bite of cereal, but the growling in his gut said otherwise. He took smaller bites and didn’t let them get so mushy in his mouth.

Zoe, as per usual, came down with her nose stuck in a book. She poured way too much cereal and not enough milk into her bowl - she always ended up needing to add more milk to finish - and munched absently as she read. Larry was much the same, but instead of reading, he was checking emails, and where Zoe used too much cereal, he used too much milk.

“Back to school,” Cynthia said in singsong. “Aren’t we all excited?”

Zoe shrugged. Larry made a vague noise. Connor ate the last of his cereal. His mom repeated the question to him as she cleared his plate. He reminded her that he wasn’t going that day. She sighed through her nose and handed him his morning meds, which he tossed back with the last of the milk, just to see who noticed first.

“It’s your _senior year_ , Connor! You are not missing the first day!”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “I already said I’d go _tomorrow_. I’m trying to find a compromise here.”

Cynthia turned to her husband. “Are you going to get involved here or are you too busy on your email, Larry?” she asked sharply, edged with frustration and that annoyed sort of exhaustion.

Larry looked up and gave Connor a stern look. “You have to go to school, Connor,” he said, doing little more than stating a fact in a vaguely authoritative tone.

Connor would have laughed, had it not been for a shrill “That’s all you’re going to say?” from Cynthia.

Larry gave her a helpless shrug. “What do you want me to say? He doesn’t listen.” Connor clenched his jaw. Great, Larry was back to referring to him as if he wasn’t there. “Look at him; he’s not listening. He’s probably high.”

“He’s definitely high,” Zoe agreed, talking around a mouthful of cereal.

“Fuck you!” Connor yelled, lowering his head onto the table. His head was still pounding and his stomach was churning and his heart was racing and _god_ did he wish the earth would swallow him whole.

“Fuck you!” Zoe spat back.

“I don’t need you picking at your brother right now,” Cynthia admonished. “That’s not constructive.”

Zoe’s tone was a mixture of incredulousness and anger. “Are you kidding?”

“Besides, he’s not high.”

Connor could feel his mother’s eyes on him expectantly. He raised his head and turned it towards her, but he couldn’t find any words. He wasn’t high, not really, seeing as the painkillers had yet to kick in, but he’d taken the pills to begin with, so he wasn’t exactly clean, either. His head was pounding worse than any hangover he’d had, too. There just wasn’t a word for this limbo he found himself in.

Cynthia took this silence as him telling her that he was, in fact, high. She sighed raggedly. “I don’t want you going to school high, Connor. We’ve talked about this.”

They had, months previously, when getting him off drugs had been his parents’ only priority regarding him. Now the goal was to make him feel ‘comfortable’ and ‘accepted’ and some other bullshit self-esteem-related things. As far as drugs went, they’d managed to cut off most of his supply, but he still managed to get pot on the regular, and they couldn’t stop him if they couldn’t find it.

“Perfect,” Connor sighed, standing up. “So then I won’t go. Thanks, Mom!”

He left the dining room for the living room, where he flopped onto a couch and tried to soothe his throbbing head by pretending that falling asleep was an option. From the other room, he could hear his family’s activity still. His father complaining about traffic, Zoe discovering the missing milk, his mother pacing helplessly in the way she did when she was frustrated.

When he heard Zoe say she’d be leaving without Connor if he wasn’t ready, he seriously considered just staying there on the couch, but some better (or maybe it was worse) part of him managed to get him off and walking towards the door. He was shrugging on his jacket as Zoe approached, looking mildly surprised to see him. Connor flipped her the bird with one hand as the other picked up his bag on the floor. She scoffed and returned the gesture before opening the front door and stomping out to her car. Connor followed, giving her space but not straying too far behind.

The Bug had a surprising amount of legroom - a fact Connor was eternally grateful for - and allowed him to sit comfortably in the front, even if Zoe wasn’t feeling particularly fondly of him.

“For someone who hates waking up, you sure know how to get an early start,” she muttered darkly, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway.

Connor leaned his still-aching forehead against the cool glass of the window. He didn’t say anything to her. Better let her think he’s being the same old stoner brother and not some weirdo getting a migraine from the thought of being around people and noise in an enclosed area.

“You don’t smell like pot, though,” she commented, slightly less aggressive than before. “Makes me wonder what it is you took.”

“I don’t ever smell like pot,” he scoffed.

“You may have figured out dad’s trick for covering up the smell of cigarettes, but you don’t execute it as well as he does,” Zoe informed, clearly feeling quite good about pointing out Connor’s shortcomings.

“Mom never comments.”

“Is that all that matters to you?” she snapped. “Whether or not you get caught?”

Connor made a vague noise. The sudden rise in the pitch and volume of Zoe’s voice had not helped his situation in the slightest.

“You were better,” she whispered. Connor turned and looked at her, _really_ looked at her for the first time in days. She looked tired. She looked _hurt_ , like someone had just punched her in the gut. Connor knew that look too well on his baby sister. In fact, it was seared into his brain. “You were so much better.”

He laughed hollowly. She said it as if he wasn’t aware of what he was. “Remember there that one Greek myth about the dude that was forced to push a boulder up a hill for all of eternity?”

“Sisyphus,” she said sadly. If she was anything like Connor in that moment, she was thinking back to when they were little kids, grabbing every book on ancient mythology in sight just because it was such great material for their games of make-believe. “As punishment for his crimes in life was to push a boulder up a hill in the Underworld in death. Every time he made it to the top of the hill, the boulder would roll back down to the bottom and he’d have to start over. And the boulder’s so heavy that he doesn’t always make it to the top, but the result is always the same: back to pushing.” She spared a curious glance at the side of his face. “Is that what you think you are? Doomed to an endless uphill climb?”

Connor shrugged. “I certainly seem to follow a pattern. How much effort is really involved on my part is a different question.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, Zoe focusing on the road and Connor leaning his head against the window with his eyes closed. The meds were starting to kick in, which made his head go from pounding to fuzzy, and in said fuzzy state, he wasn’t able to decide which was worse. It wasn’t until they reached school and he stepped out of the car that he decided that fuzzy was much, much better.

Summer was on its last leg, and the air was just cool enough that stepping out of the car and into the morning sun felt like being born again. The pounding in his head was gone and for once the world wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t great, either, but it wasn’t cruel. And really, that was all he needed to convince his brain to get him walking across the parking lot and towards the school gates.

 

The fuzzy feeling didn’t last as long as Connor would have liked. The pounding in his head was gone, but the actions of others twisted his gut. Looks they thought he couldn’t see, eyes and bodies skittering away as he walked past, whispers about where he’d been and what he’d done. A few people tried to greet him or make small talk. Very few of the attempts were sincere. Every look, every failed interaction, every deliberate move away from his existence made his stomach pull a little tighter and tighter until it started to burn. The burn spread from his stomach to his chest, sending needle-like pricks of heat across his skin, making him itch and fidget. Oh, how he wanted so badly to pace or scream or throw something or just submerge himself in ice water until it all went _away_ and _-_

“Hey, Connor!”

The voice was friendly, but not in any way genuine. Connor knew this for a fact - he’d heard this voice - this tone - far too many times. Still, for reasons he couldn’t understand, he stopped and looked towards the voice. Jared Kleinman, of course. Jared Kleinman, whose neighbor he’d been intentionally neglecting for a week, who had no qualms about hurling insults like they were poison he needed to drain from his system, who had a somewhat private personal detail that Connor could easily use against him if he so pleased.

But he wouldn’t. Even by Connor’s standards, it would be wrong. Far, far too wrong.

That being said, there was nothing wrong with Kip Kleinman, only the way others perceived that single piece of him. Connor didn’t see his being gay negatively, so he wasn’t going to treat it as a negative part of anyone. He certainly wasn’t going to advertise it with malicious intent.

Jared, on the other hand, was a part of his father that Connor would have delighted in ripping to shreds for the world to see. Not because of the way he talked about quite frankly everyone, but because of the way he was so _fake._ Connor had spent years suspecting the asshole persona had been an act, but that day at the gas station when he’d seen the doomed interaction between Jared and Evan, everything had been confirmed to him.

Still, despite all that went down at the gas station, Kleinman Jr. still felt the need to take another jab at Connor’s hair, this time upgrading from hopeless stoner to teenage terrorist in his description of Connor. Connor knew he looked like a cliche, but still, he gave Jared a withering glare, silently asking him what gave him the right to say that. A joke, Jared said. Connor said he was laughing (he wasn’t). Jared said he was a freak (he probably was) and walked away.

His vision was blurry, his skin was prickling, and the goddamn _word_ was echoing around in his skull. _Freak freak freak freak freakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreak-_

_Heh._

A small sound. Barely audible, barely uttered, barely holding meaning. But just enough meaning to make Connor see red. He pushed past, spitting back the evil word, knocking the sound to the linoleum floor of the hall and stomping away until he found somewhere to be alone and _breathe_.

If someone were to ask him any details about the person he pushed, he wouldn’t be able to summon any whatsoever. They were a being, nothing else. Just a blob of vague color and little sound. Still, he felt guilty for pushing a stranger for what probably wasn’t even a laugh. It wasn’t like he knew who to look for to apologize to, though.

By the time he recollected himself, it was almost half an hour after the start of last period. He couldn’t exactly just walk right in. So, of course, like any sensible teenager, Connor pulled out his phone as a way to pass the time.

 **Zoe:** wtf is wrong with you

 **Zoe:** do you seriously resent ppl who see the good in you that much??

 **Zoe:** you’re so lucky he didn’t land on his cast oh my god

 **Zoe:** tell me where you are

The last message was from five minutes previously. He replied honestly. She was there within another five. By then, he’d been able to figure out who it was he pushed.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know it was him?” he asked quietly, picking at the paint on his nails.

Zoe snorted. “Not fucking likely. What did he even do, Connor? Evan isn’t capable of saying anything impolite, much less do something that would warrant shoving-”

“I know, I know, I know,” Connor assured, tugging at his hair. “I was just...I’d had enough, Zo. Everything was just too much, and then there was that last straw - one I’m not even sure really happened at this point - and I fell apart. I was angry and I hurt the one person who doesn’t hate me because I’m _that_ big of a dick, is that what you wanna hear? That I’m making a point to try and get suspended on my first day back? That I want to go back to-” his voice faltered, not wanting to say the next word, not even wanting to _think_ it. He shuddered at the memory.

By now, Zoe’s face had gone from one of anger to concern. She extended her hand towards him. He took it, but only gave it a brief squeeze before letting go. He didn’t meet Zoe’s eyes, but saw her nod slowly in his periphery.

“Connor…” she began, clearly not wanting to say what she was about to, “I think you should tell me what you took.”

He laughed hollowly. “I don’t even fucking know the name. Some super-strength migraine shit. If you’re gonna rat me out, the bottle’s in my dresser. I’ve only got a few left.”

“How many did you take?”

“Two. I’ve been using it up pretty slowly ‘til now.”

Zoe breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’m gonna text Avery before I text Mom.”

Avery was technically an ER nurse, but a very specific kind. He was there to talk and interact with people who were in due to mental health issues. Nervous breakdowns, psychotic episodes, suicide attempts, the works. When not on duty at the ER, Avery worked in the adolescent ward at the local mental hospital/unofficial teen rehab center. After Connor’s overdose at the beginning of the summer, Avery had taken something of a special interest in his well-being. He recommended therapists, gave insights on meds that the psychiatrist didn’t or couldn’t (mostly regarding side effects), and, more than anything, helped to defuse situations before they got anywhere near exploding. He hadn’t led Connor and Zoe to Evan’s house that day because they’d made him; he’d done it because he saw a good opportunity for both boys.

Up until less than an hour previously, it had been going pretty well.

“Better yet, I’m gonna wait and see what he says before I tell Mom anything,” Zoe decided. “Will she kill me? Probably.” She typed out a text hurriedly and sent it, then checked the time on her phone. “Okay, I need to get back to class. You good in here alone?” she asked, putting a hand on her brother’s knee. Connor nodded. “Promise?” He covered her hand with his and nodded again. “Alright, I’m trusting you here. Don’t make me wrong.”

“Fuck you,” he murmured halfheartedly.

Zoe smiled. “Yeah, I know. Avery might call or text you, so be ready for that. I think you should apologize to Evan, too. Not right now, obviously, but maybe before the end of the day.” She hesitated. “And probably in person.”

Connor winced, but nodded. She was right, of course. She always was with things like this.

Zoe gave him a brief hug - an awkward, one-armed, unreciprocated thing - before leaving him alone again. Connor slid to the floor and sat cross-legged, picking at his nail polish. That was only entertaining for a few minutes, and so he moved on to his phone. _One new message_ , the screen informed him. He opened the text, assuming it was Avery looking to make him talk through his shitty, shitty day.

It wasn’t.

 **EH:** I’m really, really sorry about what happened. I hope you can forgive me.

Connor slammed his phone facedown on the floor, wanting to get as far from the message as he could. The words were right, but the sender was not. _Don’t you dare_ , Connor wanted to say. _Don’t you dare blame yourself for me being terrible_.

But he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. He looked up at the clock mounted on the wall of the computer lab. Fifteen minutes until school was over. Fifteen minutes until he had to go find Evan. Fifteen minutes until he found out exactly how painfully good Evan Hansen was.

Connor didn’t want them to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure some of the dialogue here was familiar...but who was Connor talking to first thing in the morning? And why did the author make everything seem so good only to do this?
> 
> What, you thought Connor POV was gonna be sunshine and rainbows? Nah, bro.


	10. intrusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood in the center of the room, staring at the words over and over as if somehow they would change. This was how he was when Zoe found him, standing helplessly, unsure of how to go forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a brief, non-graphic, but still present mention of vomiting at the very end. And, of course, Connor's potty mouth along with anxiety and vague suicidal ideation. Just, you know, basically the first 20 minutes of the show.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why. You’ve just gotten through the first day of your senior year, which means there are only 179 days left until you’re done with high school. Well, as long as you don’t count weekends and holidays because that’s a lot farther away than 179 days. Although maybe it’s good that it’s not just 179 days straight because then there’d be no days off and you’d explode from the stress of being around people all the time and maybe that’d be just better than this crappy, crappy day over and over and over again._

_It didn’t feel like a good day. I didn’t freak out any more than usual (though how messed up is it that I have a usual???) and it all went smoothly aside from the hall issue. God, why did I have to do that? I didn’t even mean to do it and now...did I ruin the closest thing to a friendship I’ve had in years? I figured something was up last week, but I wasn’t sure if it was him or me and now I think it’s definitely me. I shouldn’t have mentioned Mia, I should have stayed far away from personal topics._

_Did he think I was using him because it got me closer to Zoe?_

_Zoe. God, I wish I could just let go of Zoe. I don’t know her, and she doesn’t want to know me, but still, so much of my hope is pinned on her. I spent so much time wondering what would happen if she saw me for once, and then she did and now I’m so confused and asking myself why did it take trying to die to get me close to her? Especially when it only lasted two minutes. She acted like she cared back there in the hall but it wasn’t really about me, was it? I’m just going to end up going through this year like I do every other, aren’t I? I’m just going to live in the background and do nothing but be no one and nobody will notice or care if I’m just gone. I certainly wouldn’t._

 

_Sincerely, your best and dearest friend,_

Me.

 

Evan did not mean to press print with the letter so negatively phrased, but he did. With a frustrated sigh, he got up and went over to the printer to grab the letter before anyone saw it. Well, one of the printers. There were three in the computer lab and it was always a bit of a toss-up as to where a document got sent. Because the universe was cruel, his letter was at the last printer he looked at, which was also the only one with a person standing next to it.

Safe to say, he was too late.

“Dear Evan Hansen,” a familiar voice recited. “Hey, that’s a good idea,” Connor said, handing Evan the paper with a friendly look. “Sending a letter instead of something as thoughtless as a text.” Evan winced. Connor’s face fell. “ _Shit_. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Okay, I did, but I wasn’t talking about you. Well, that’s a lie, too, but,” Connor waved his hands in front of his face as if the movement would wipe away all he’d just said. “Let me start over.”

Evan agreed that he wasn’t stopping him from doing so.

“Yeah, much appreciated,” Connor replied in his standard dry, sarcastic tone. “Damn, do I always sound like an asshole when I talk? You know what, nevermind that for now.” He took a deep breath. “Look...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. And it wasn’t personal, either. I would’ve pushed over anyone in that moment.” Connor ran a hand over his face. “This isn’t making anything any better. Man, I’m fucked up. Look, I get it if you never want to talk to me again after this - I wouldn’t want to talk to me, either - but if it makes any difference, I would take it back if I could. I don’t hate you in the slightest, Evan, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

For several beats Evan just stood there, blinking at Connor, who looked very much like he wanted to run away. “I never know what to say when Jared’s around,” he blurted, finally finding the words. “It was awkward and tense and I was nervous, so I’m sorry if it sounded like I was laughing at you, but know I wouldn’t do that because it is the last thing either of us needs.”

Connor gaped at him for a moment before speaking again. “It almost sounds like you’re trying to pin this all on Kleinman.”

Both boys stared at each other dumbly for several beats before chuckling and then laughing. It wasn’t nervous laughter, but it wasn’t exactly amused, either. Somehow, both recognized the absurdity of the situation they were in and found it in them to laugh at themselves, though perhaps under the guise of someone else. Regardless, it worked, and neither was quite as apprehensive as he had been before.

Evan checked the time on his phone. “Oh, I have to go or I’ll miss the bus.” There was a distinct distaste in the way he said it. Connor could tell that Evan neither wanted to go where he was going nor did he want to take the bus to get there. For a moment - somehow already a force of habit - Connor considered offering Evan a ride to wherever he was going. Ultimately, he decided against it, and the two of them said their goodbyes, Evan hastily folding up his letter and shoving it in his jeans as he hurried out.

Connor’s eyes lingered on Evan’s back pocket until he turned out of view. Not moving his eyes, he reached into his own and pulled out his phone, feeling not particularly guilty. He hadn’t read the whole thing, but he’d managed to grab a few photos, and hopefully none of them too blurry. He’d seen enough while it was on the printer to know that the letter, whatever its purpose may be, concerned him.

_“Did I ruin the closest thing to a friendship I’ve had in years?”_

_“Did he think I was using him because it got me closer to Zoe?”_

_“I’m just going to live in the background and do nothing but be no one and nobody will notice or care if I’m just gone. I certainly wouldn’t.”_

He stood in the center of the room, staring at the words over and over as if somehow they would change. This was how he was when Zoe found him, standing helplessly, unsure of how to go forward.

* * *

“I made a friend,” Evan blurted, not even giving Doctor Sherman the chance to speak. The raised eyebrow he received was asking him to keep talking, so he did. Occasionally tripping over his words or stammering for a few seconds while his brain caught back up with his tongue, but speaking nonetheless. Talking about the gas station, the way they showed up at his door with Avery, the concert, the back-to-school shopping trip, the texting back and forth that had come to a screeching halt when Evan had made a poor choice at 2 a.m.

“You’ve had quite the social life,” commented the psychiatrist, giving Evan an encouraging smile as he finished his story. “I’m impressed. Still, I feel like there’s a piece of the story that I’m missing. Today was the first day of school, after all. Certainly at least one of the Murphys was there?”

Evan nodded and did his best to summarize the incident in the hall. Doctor Sherman frowned at the part where Connor shoved Evan to the ground but allowed him to finish the story.

Doctor Sherman cleared his throat. “This, ah…” he searched for the word, “slip-up that you say you had while texting Connor. It was a personal topic, I assume.” Evan nodded. “Did you mention your aunt at all? What was her name again? Maya? Maria?”

“Mia,” Evan corrected, voice wavering slightly. For someone who had died long before he was born, Mia sure knew how to make an impact on Evan’s life. “H-how did you know?” he asked, feeling the lump in his throat growing, slowly forcing him to choose between breathing and speaking.

“Educated guess. I’ll tell you next time, so long as you remind me. I know how much of a touchy subject it is for you, and you’ve clearly already had an exhausting day.” Evan didn’t even try to deny it; his day had been horrible and draining and all he wanted to do was sleep. Sensing this, Doctor Sherman let Evan go a few minutes early, saying, “I think you and the Murphys are going to be fine,” in place of a goodbye.

Evan turned on his phone at the bus stop and shoved it back in his pocket as he searched around in his backpack for his headphones. He jumped when his phone began to buzz repeatedly. Evan pulled it back out, wondering if he was getting a call. As it turned out, it was just numerous texts. He wasn’t used to that.

 

 **Mom:** Hope appt went well. Love you!!!

 **Zoe:** Glad to hear you worked things out with Connor :)

 **Zoe:** You *did* work things out, right?

 **Zoe:** If he lied to me I’m gonna have to beat his ass with my guitar.

 **Connor:** Is my sister insane or is it just me?

 **Connor:** Ah nvm. She is insane. It’s my fault, but I’m not the only one that can see it.

 **Zoe:** I knew Avery was cute but when did he get hot????

 **Connor:** Holy FUCK Avery has a BEARD

 **Zoe:** Shit wrong person

 **Connor:** Shit wrong person

 **Connor:** Please tell Zoe we’re cool she’s holding her guitar maliciously

 **Zoe:** Oh nvm he’s been texting you okay awesome talk later!

 

Evan chuckled as he looked through the texts. He put on his headphones (the most surefire way to keep people from talking to him) before replying.

 

To Heidi-

 **You:** Went fine. Waiting at the bus stop now.

 

To Zoe-

 **You:** Yeah, I’m pretty sure C and I are at least ok.

 

To Connor-

 **You:** You alive?

 

The reply was immediate.

 

 **Connor:** Yep.

 **You:** That’s all I needed to know.

 **Connor:** Wouldn’t that have been more of a question for Zoe?

 **You:** Probably. Too late now.

 

And, lastly, to Avery-

 **You:** The Murphys like your new look.

 

 **Zoe:** EVAN

 

 **Connor:** HANSEN

 **You:** What?

 **Connor:** Zoe is so red omfg

 **Connor:** (no subject)

 **Connor:** Her embarrassed face is the best istg just look at this shit

 

Evan laughed but didn’t reply. He considered sending the photo on to Zoe, but she had probably seen it already. Besides, the bus pulled up right as the last text from Connor came. He was too caught up in the stress of feeding his crumpled dollar bill into the machine without holding up the line and finding an unoccupied seat away from the questionable people without making any eye contact whatsoever. Once he was in his seat, his headphones were in his ears and music was playing, so Evan simply leaned against the bus window, watching absently as the scenery passed by. Had he not been so terrified of missing his stop, Evan may have even nodded off a bit.

But he was terrified, so he didn’t. In fact, not an ounce of tension drained from his body until he was off the bus and inside his house, dropping his backpack to the floor and curling up on the couch. This time, he did doze off and slept peacefully for over two hours before he was woken up by a persistent buzzing in his pants, accompanied by loud, generic guitar music.

Evan was still shaking off sleep when he answered the call, so what was meant to be a ‘Hello?’ ended up as more of an indistinct muttering.

“Evan?” was the mildly concerned reply. It took him a moment to place the voice.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s me, mister Kleinman,” he assured hurriedly, sitting up to try and wake himself up more.

“I was just checking in for your mom, kiddo. She said you haven’t been answering any of her texts and wanted to make sure you’re home safe. If you wouldn’t mind just flickering the lights in the kitchen a few times so I know you’re home, that’d be all I need.”

Evan nodded, then remembered that Kip couldn’t see him. “Yeah, yeah. I was sleeping, sorry. Give me a sec.”

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Evan got off the couch and walked into the kitchen. The Kleinman’s dining room window looked in on the Hansen’s kitchen, and Evan could see the outline of a male form in the opposite window. Like Kip asked, he flickered the lights a few times before his neighbor was satisfied and hung up, leaving Evan alone once more. He looked down at his cell, seeing that he had seven texts from his mom, four from Jared, two from Kip, three from the both Murphy siblings respectively, another two from Avery, and one from a number Evan could have sworn he had long since blocked.

22 texts in all. Evan was overwhelmed just looking at the number without reading the messages. Still, he was there and had nothing better to do, so he opened them. The seven from his mother were as he'd expected: asking if he got home already, if he was okay, if he wasn’t okay, why he hadn’t responded to her texts yet, and so on. Kip’s texts were expressing concern on behalf of his mother, and Jared’s were expressing confusion on his father’s concern on Heidi’s behalf. Zoe’s messages were all photos of Avery (who did, admittedly, look amazing with a beard), Connor’s were all unflattering selfies with Zoe and Avery that had clearly been taken by the former (given how Connor was in the corner scowling), and Avery’s were thanking Evan for putting up with the Murphy siblings and giving the head-up on his new look.

Evan deleted the thread of the single message without bothering to read it. He didn’t want it, he didn’t need it, he wasn’t going to do it. The sender wouldn’t even read a reply if Evan even cared to send one. No, instead he shot off a message to his mom explaining that he’d fallen asleep but checked in with Kip.

After finishing up with far more texting than he was used to, Evan trudged back to the couch and lay back down. The few minutes he’d spent up had chased away his sleep, but he was too tired to go all the way to his room to get his laptop. Netflix it was. He pulled up some mid-2000’s sitcom that had been funny to him in middle school but had now lost most of its luster. Still, he watched it with vague interest, smiling at some of the better jokes, rolling his eyes at his least favorite character (honestly, why was _that guy_ the protagonist?), and bobbing his head along to the cheery theme song. Evan made it through six episodes before switching to cable while he went and nuked the Trader Joe’s dumplings his mother had mentioned that morning. The instructions on the bag said they were best prepared on a stove, but Evan had one hand and not enough energy.

While the dumplings were in the microwave, Evan grabbed his laptop and phone charger from his room and brought them into the living room. Once his food was done, he had a Millennial's dream setup: TV on, laptop on one side, phone on the other, greasy dinner in lap, and all but sinking into a couch. Evan munched slowly on the dumplings as he scrolled through the list of scholarship essay contests his mom had sent him, _Star Trek_ reruns playing in the background. He stayed like this for several hours before turning off the TV, putting his dishes in the sink, bringing his phone and computer back into his room, and going to take a shower. The warm water made him so drowsy that he almost forgot to brush his teeth, much less take his meds. Lucky for him, Heidi had long since taped a reminder to the bathroom mirror.

Evan was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he slept heavily but restlessly through ‘til morning, when his alarm blared and startled him out of his sleep. He sat up abruptly, rubbed his eyes, rolled over, and vomited all over the floor of his room.

* * *

_  
Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why: it’s not._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really worried that this chapter wasn't going to make 2000 words, but here I am with over 2800! Yay! Sorry that I took so long, guys - I've been in a rut, but hopefully I'll be out soon.  
> What did you guys think of the spacing/centering/italicizing I did for the letters and texts? Yay or nay?  
> Regardless, thanks for reading!! Love you all!!!


	11. communication (act i: murphys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching out is often far too difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No huge trigger warnings for this chapter, but know that there is mention of suicidal/self-destructive thoughts and behaviors.

Connor pretended he didn’t know everyone was watching him. Pretended everyone didn’t watch as he left the classroom, as he made his way through the halls, as he walked into the office, as he made his way towards the principal’s office. He imagined his skin was armor, and that their questioning, curious gazes just bounced off without any impact. It was easier when it was just other classmates, but when the office staff had the same “What did he do now?” looks on their faces, it was a little harder to ignore.

He’d only been in the principal’s office once before, back in the spring after he…well, it didn’t matter now. He hadn’t done anything of the like since. The vice principal’s office and he were old friends, but Mr. Howard’s was foreign. The door was ajar, but not open, so Connor knocked hesitantly before pushing it open enough to get his head through.

What he saw made him want to turn and run.

Heidi Hansen was sitting inside alone, wringing her hands and looking down at the floor. The look on her face was one of exhaustion and distress. There was only one thing Connor had in common with Ms. Hansen, and it hadn’t been to school in three days.

Connor cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. Heidi looked up at the sound and gave him a warm smile. The bags under her eyes were darker than last he’d seen her, and her hair was pulled back but still distinctly frizzy and unruly. She looked like she hadn’t slept or showered in days, but the close-lipped smile she gave Connor was somehow bright and alive.

“I wanted to talk to you in private, but all the other offices were taken,” she explained, patting the seat opposite her, “so Mr. Howard was generous enough to let us use his.”

Still not speaking, Connor nodded and sat down. It would always be a mystery to him as to how administrators got cushy couches while the students had to spend every day in and out of tiny, cramped metal desks. The chair was so padded in comparison to the seat Connor had just left that he wanted to just let himself melt into it. It certainly seemed a much better option to whatever was coming for him.

Heidi started talking basically as soon as Connor sat down.“You and Evan are friends, right?” she asked. Her voice was unsteady. He nodded. “You’ve been talking for about a month now. Or texting or whatever?” Connor nodded again. They had started texting a month previously. The fact that they hadn’t texted in three days (and a week before that) didn’t really seem to matter at the moment. “Would you say you’ve gotten to know him? And not just his personality - likes and dislikes - but,” she had to stop as her voice caught in her throat. She apologized as she wiped at her eyes and took a steadying breath. “Would you say you’ve gotten a look at what goes on in his head?”

Connor froze. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but he could guess it was nowhere ideal. But her eyes were so wide with concern that he couldn’t play dumb, at least not entirely. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Heidi sniffled and wiped at her eyes again as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Connor’s heart sank. He had a pretty good idea what it was. He’d read its contents a few dozen times in the past three days, after all.

“He, um, he has this…assignment that he does for his therapist. I don’t know if he mentioned it to you, but long story short is that he writes himself these letters. They’re meant to get him to think positively and face the day better.” She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “It sounds really stupid when you say it out loud, but the therapist swears by it. Anyway, this is - this is his letter from Monday. The first day of school.” Heidi held up the letter, almost as if she were going to hand it to Connor but decided against it. “In it, he’s not - he’s not thinking particularly positively, and he said something towards the end that really caught my attention.” She took a few deep, shaky breaths before breaking down.

She was a quiet crier. Her hand stayed over her mouth, even as her body shook with sobs and tears trickled through and over her fingers. It was so different from his mother, who became near hysterical when she cried. Heidi was doing everything she could to maintain her composure even as she was breaking down, and it absolutely broke Connor’s heart. He remembered the times he’d heard Zoe crying through the wall they shared, trying to hide the sounds with pillows but never quite managing it. On too many of the nights when she cried herself to sleep - often because of Connor - he sat against the wall, listening to her sobs and hating himself. Sometimes he cried with her, others he thought about flinging himself out the window, and at best he was just too stoned to remember what he felt.

He’d never been able to help someone who was crying. Even before he got bad, he’d been awful in an emotional crisis. Connor figured he got that trait from his father, who had long since stopped trying to be something he wasn’t. Connor, on the other hand, was young and stupid enough to take a stab at it. He handed Heidi the box of tissues sitting on the principal’s desk and waited patiently as she steadied herself.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she sniffled. “It’s just…it’s not easy. It’s never easy, but it’s worth it. No matter how little you may think of yourself, you’re worth it to your parents, you know that?” She reached forward and patted Connor’s knee. “That’s why I kept an eye on you that night.”

“And why you yelled at my parents?” he asked, both genuinely curious and trying to lighten the mood.

Heidi laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that too. Everyone needs a push in the right direction every so often. But, uh, getting back to Evan, has he ever,” she choked and her eyes watered, “has he ever mentioned wanting to…” Another shaky breath. “Wanting to hurt himself? In the letter, he made it sound like he’d tried to...to _take his own life_ at some point, or that it was somehow connected to you and your sister and I had to know if he’d told you anything about it.”

Connor felt like screaming. Screaming, breaking a window, running away, jumping off a cliff, and never having to deal with another person ever again. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t have this conversation. He couldn’t admit to anything. He didn’t know what he should or shouldn’t admit to. In that moment, faced with an exhausted, terrified, already poised to break down Heidi Hansen, there were only three options that presented themselves to Connor.

One: he tells Heidi that he knows what the letter says. He tells her that, at that moment, he’s as informed as she is, but only because he took pictures of Evan’s private letter without his permission. He can’t give her the answer she’s looking for, but he can agree that he’s worried about Evan.

Two: tell her only part of the truth. He can tell Heidi that he knows about her sister, and therefore understands why she’s concerned, but doesn’t know anything about any self-destructive thoughts or behaviors in Evan, much less how it would relate to him or Zoe.

Three: lie his ass off. Say he knows nothing, that he and Evan haven’t talked about anything deep, but he knows Evan is happy and would never do anything like that. Anything he could possibly think of to get rid of the horrible, horrible look on Heidi’s face. Forget the truth, just make her stop with the sadness.

Connor has spent so much time being the bad kid that he doesn’t know what to do. This was a matter of morals, and he was really rusty when it came to compass reading. He wished he had someone here - Zoe, his mom, Avery, hell, even his _dad_ \- to tell him what to do, what the right thing to say was, anything. But they weren’t here, and even if they were, there wasn’t enough to fill them in on what was happening. He was all alone here, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what someone better than him would say.

In the end, Connor spent so much time going back and forth between the options that he ended up gaping at Heidi like a fish. Whatever his face was saying, it clearly wasn’t good, because Heidi looked absolutely horrified.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry!” She launched into a stream of apologies, going on about how inconsiderate she was being of Connor’s feelings and how difficult a subject she’s sure this is for him. She offered to talk about this at a different time, maybe with his parents around, and Connor was too shocked to do anything but nod.

This woman was clearly worried sick about her son, but still, she had the heart and the presence of mind to put Connor’s comfort before anything else. She was so selfless it made Connor want to puke. How could he lie to someone like that? More to the point, how could he tell the _truth_ to someone like that?

Saying goodbye was an awkward affair. Heidi was going on about getting in touch with his parents between wiping her face and apologizing for not being considerate (which was the farthest thing from the truth, as far as Connor was concerned), and she actually hugged him before she left. Connor couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him, and he’d almost forgotten how to reciprocate. It was a pathetic attempt, but at least he’d tried. Heidi gave him one last warm smile before she left, and Connor watched her leave, trying to process what had just happened.

This time he walked through the halls, he didn’t pretend to not feel the stares. He held his head down, hunched his shoulders, and kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets. When he reentered the classroom, he shrunk away from the glances that always accompanied the opening of the door. The uncharacteristic behavior, of course, attracted longer looks, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to snarl at people. Thankfully, the teacher acted as if nothing had happened and launched back into her lecture, stealing back the attention of the class. Connor spent the rest of the period looking at his desk, going over his conversation with Heidi Hansen and trying to figure out what to say. He was like this for the rest of the day: staring off into space, weighing his options in his head, and letting the looks and mutterings pierce his skin. Even on the ride home in Zoe’s car, he was dead silent and barely moved a muscle, even when Zoe played a song she knew he hated.

Of course, the second he was in back in his room, Connor exploded.

 

* * *

  

 **Lily:** Sorry I missed your call!! Are you ok?

 **You:** Not really, no. C is flipping out and I can't do shit about it. Help me?

 **Lily:** I'll try, but you know Ben’s episodes are different, right?

 **You:** Yeah, but how do you deal when all you can do is sit it out until he gets tired?

 **Lily:** He's not alone, right?

 **You:** Of course not. Dads in there.

 **Lily:** Ok had to check. I mean, him not hurting himself is the biggest part, obviously. Have you tried talking to him? I know it sounds fucking dumb but

 **You:** Parental units won't let me anywhere near him after the door incident back in the spring. Pops stopped trying to be comforting ages ago and mom is rattled.

 **Lily:** Any clue what triggered it?

 **You:** I wasn't sure at first, but he was acting weird in the car and it sounds like mom called Heidi to cancel something.

 **Lily:** Who's Heidi?

 **You:** Mom of a friend

 **You:** Also the nurse who kinda brought Connor back from the dead

 **Lily:** Gotcha

 **You:** From what I caught she wanted to talk about Evan but it kinda worries me that she wanted to do it here with my parents and all

 **Lily:** That is weird…

 **You:** And E hasn't been to school in 3 days. I guess 4 now.

 **Lily:** Isn't it the fifth day of school??

 **You:** Yep

 **Lily:** Well damn. I hope he's okay.

 **Lily:** (sent photo)

 **Lily:** Ben says Hi!

 **You:** Hi Ben!!!

 **You:** He's got the cutest little face I swear.

 **You:** Tell him he just helped brighten my day.

 **Lily:** I did. He's thrilled, the sweetheart.

 **You:** :)

 **Lily:** back on track is C still going?

 **You:** He's stopped telling but there's still banging going on up there.

 **Lily:** Do you need me to call you? Distract you a bit? Let you vent?

 **You:** I'd like that, yeah.

 **Lily:** gimme a sec to get to another room, okay?

 **You:** of course

 **You:** you're such a saint I love you so fucking much

 

* * *

  

 **From:** cynthiahollmurphy@gmail.com

 **To:** hhansen@gmail.com

 **Subject:** Just So You Know

 **Received at 1:48 a.m.**  

Hi Heidi,

Sorry for the late hour! I sent an email in hopes it wouldn't disturb you.

Anyway, I thought you should know that Connor told me (okay, it was a group effort) what happened. Or at least enough so that I can be of some degree of help. We are free all weekend and can meet wherever and whenever you like to. Connor has released a chunk of his anxieties, so I think it will be easier for him this time. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding with Connor. I know what you're going through, and I'm sorry to be putting you in this position.

Connor asked that I 1) send along his apologies in addition to my own, and 2) gave you a “heads-up” and let you know that Evan told him about your older sister. I don't know what that means, but I didn't press.

All the thank yous in the universe wouldn't be enough for all you've done for us,

Cynthia

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long. School started back up last week and I've already a heavier course load than I'm accustomed to, so I'm still getting into the swing of things.  
> Other than that, though, what did you think of the chapter? Is there too much sadness? Am I leaving you dying to know more? Are my characterizations still okay? Tell me in the comments! It's great motivation to write!!


	12. communication (act ii: boys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage boys go out of their comfort zones for Hansens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of food (eating), self-harm, and suicide.

 Heidi sighed. She’d just ended a phone call, and judging by the look on her face, it didn’t go great. Then again, that _had_ been her face for the past three days, Jared reminded himself. He vaguely wondered if she’d even slept.

“Take a fucking nap, Heidi,” Kip called from the kitchen as if he’d read his son’s mind.

“I just might be able to,” she admitted with a grimace. “Cynthia just called to cancel, so it looks like I’m free until six after all.” Heidi slumped onto the Kleinman’s couch as she spoke, allowing the softness to consume her.

“Not on the couch!” Kip barked, coming out of the kitchen to playfully swat Heidi with a towel. “We’ve got beds aplenty over here. Come on, it’s not that far.” He pushed at her shoulders, trying to force her to stand up, but instead, she just groaned and made herself a dead weight. Jared was really quite amazed at how immature they were being.

Eventually, Kip came around to the front of the couch and hauled Heidi up by her arms. She sunk into his shoulder, still trying to play the uncooperative corpse, but Kip was having none of it and pulled her along until she picked up her feet.

“Attagirl!” Kip encouraged. “Come on, you don’t even have to take the stairs - guest room’s right this way.”

“Mom’s room,” Jared corrected; a reflex.

“That too,” Kip agreed, though he and Heidi were already far enough down the hall that his voice was a little muffled.

Jared tapped his pencil against the table a few times before going back to his homework. His first week back and he was already swamped with homework. He almost preferred it, though. It gave him something to do, something to think about, something to hold on to. Even his English homework, which he couldn’t stand on the principle that it was _English_ , was better than nothing. There was too much going on in the house at the moment. Usually, after school it was just Jared, so he could sit at the kitchen table and do his work in peace. If his dad was home, he would stay out of Jared’s way and save the ‘how was your day?’ routine for dinner. After school and before dinner was shut-up-so-Jared-can-work time.

But with Evan in the hospital, Heidi couldn’t stand to be in the house alone, so she was at the Kleinman house, radiating anxiety (if her relentless pacing was anything to go on) and making noise. Even worse, without Evan, Jared was stuck doing his dreaded English homework on his own. Alana could be helpful if he reached out to her, but her explanations were so long-winded that it was more of a last resort. Besides, she’d been different this week, always walking away when he tried to come up to her. It’s not like they were best friends or anything, but there were sometimes questions he had for her that he couldn’t ask in class, and it was annoying when she just walked away.

Kip came back down the hall, holding Heidi’s phone in his hand. “That should guarantee she sleeps,” he said with a cheeky grin, winking at Jared before going back into the kitchen. He always made dinner on Fridays, and he always spent an unnecessary amount of time on it. Even that night, when it was just spaghetti and meatballs, he insisted on making the marinara sauce from scratch. Jared had long since stopped asking why. He’d even offered to let Jared help make dinner for once - an offer he’d turned down. It had never been his job before, so why should it be now?

Heidi slept for around an hour and a half, coming down the hall looking bleary-eyed as Jared wiped up the last of his marinara sauce with a roll. He didn’t say anything to her, leaving the talking to his dad. Heidi, however, had spent so much time at the Kleinman house of late that she knew to sit down and help herself without being told. There were no more rolls - a fact that earned Jared an irritated glare which he responded to with a shrug - but still plenty of pasta, which Heidi dug into eagerly. She stopped midway through chewing her first meatball and gave Kip a confused look.

“What is this?” she asked, mouth still partially full of meat. “This isn’t beef, and I _know_ you wouldn’t have pork.”

“Turkey,” Kip replied with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t feed you tofu without telling you. I have a teenage boy. I can’t even have tofu in the _house_.”

“You’re welcome,” said Jared to neither of them in particular, picking up his dishes to take them to the kitchen. He actually put them in the dishwasher for once, but only because the sink was already basically full, and he didn’t shut it all the way. Giving a vague wave as he passed the dining room, Jared went upstairs to his room. Most nights, homework was a strictly dining-room-table-only affair, but with Heidi over so much, he’d had to move upstairs to his room. It wasn’t a worse working situation, per se, but his room is full of constant reminders of things he’d much rather be doing.

After ten minutes of trying to focus on his homework, Jared said “Fuck it,” and pulled out his phone. It was Friday night, after all. He had the rest of the weekend to finish it. Still, despite this, Jared found himself staring blankly at the screen of his phone. Normally he’d be spamming Evan with memes on a Friday night, but he couldn’t exactly do that. Evan’s phone would receive it, sure, but Evan wouldn’t see it until he got out of the psych ward, and God knew long that would be.

Eventually, Jared settled on watching bad horror movies on Netflix. He was so out of it that some of the cheesy jump-scares actually gave him a fright. The shock of feeling afraid was somehow worse than the fear itself.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t look her in the eyes,” Evan admitted. “I just feel so guilty about all of it.”

“You know none of this is your fault, right? Yeah, so we’re fucked in the head. No one could have seen it coming or done anything to prevent it, certainly not us. It’s all about figuring out how to live with it, right?” Connor was trying to recall what the doctor had said at one of the few family sessions they’d had since his attempt. It was something along those lines. _It’s not a blame game, it’s one foot in front of the other_.

“I’m going to be in here on my birthday,” Evan said, either ignoring Connor’s attempt at comforting or having not heard it at all. “It’s the day before World Suicide Prevention Day.”

“What day is that?”

“My birthday or - ”

“Yeah, your birthday.”

“It’s the ninth. They want me in here a week for med purposes, I’ve been here since Wednesday, and my birthday is this coming Monday. That’s tomorrow or the day after, I’m not sure.”

“Day after,” Connor informed him. He remembered how time seemed to melt away into nothingness in this place. “It’s still Saturday.” The sun had been all but gone when Connor arrived, and it was already pretty dark outside.

“And I thought my weekends were uneventful before,” Evan joked, grimacing slightly.

There was a sudden burst of noise from the common room. Connor started slightly, but Evan cringed and leaned towards Connor as he tried to get away from the noise. A male voice said something in a firm tone, and the kids instantly quieted. Looking down the hall at the other people visiting, Connor could see that a few other kids had reacted similarly to the outburst.

“There’s a lot of that,” Evan admitted. “I stay in my room and read, mostly. Just to keep away from the noise.”

“Yeah, I remember that. They’re not always bad groups, but there’s always at least one kid that reminds you why humanity is the fucking _worst_.”

Evan laughed, and Connor took it as a sign of agreement.

After a few moments, Evan’s gaze moved towards the door to the common area and his expression turned much sadder. “It’s the ones that you like that you think would be so much worse, though.”

Connor nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. The girls who were more cuts than arms who smiled like the sun and told the others they were beautiful. The girl who punched a wall so hard they thought she broke her wrist but shared M&Ms with her roommate when one of the nurses snuck them to her. The boys who had violent episodes but told jokes that made everyone laugh. The paradox of the people who hated themselves the most loving everyone else so fiercely. Connor remembered those kids. He sometimes wondered how many of them never made it to the hospital.

Now Connor was just making himself sad. “Don’t tell me you’re making _friends_ now, Hansen,” he joked.

Evan made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “I think the sky would fall if I did that.”

“Personally, I don’t think the sky would fall. Push you out of another tree, on the other hand...well, that sounds like classic sky behavior.” It was a bad joke and Connor knew it. Evan’s laugh was halfhearted.

“You know I didn’t fall from that tree, right?” Evan asked quietly. “Well, I did, but it wasn’t an accident.”

Connor swallowed heavily and nodded. “I kinda guessed. How far did you fall?”

“About thirty feet.”

Unable to help himself, Connor let out a low whistle. “Damn, Hansen. You’re more hardcore than I am, and I doubt you’ve ever touched a drug in your life.”

Avery, who was walking by, gave Connor a warning glare. Connor flipped him off. He wasn’t a patient anymore; he could do what he wanted. Instead of returning the gesture, Avery pointed at the wall clock. It was almost eight. Time to go home.

Having run out of words, Evan and Connor said an awkward goodbye before Evan went back to the common area and Connor left out the door he’d come in through. His mom and Heidi were standing just on the other side, chatting about something or other. Cynthia had taken quite a shine to Heidi, Connor realized. Maybe Hansens _were_ doing some good for their family.

Not that Connor would ever tell anyone that. Not yet, anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I've updated. I'm so sorry, everyone! I'll do my best to stay on track in the future!


	13. gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan goes back to school. The whole gang is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been away a while, but I hope a ~2800 word chapter can make up for it! For followers of the blog, here's your first glimpse at Lee and a Libby mention, but you might miss it if you blink.
> 
> There is a description of a panic attack, but I don't think it's too vivid.

“Evan!” Zoe squealed, throwing her arms around him with little regard for the fact that they were in the middle of the hall at school. Evan felt the eyes watching him and flushed, but hugged her back. “Happy late birthday,” she whispered.

Hesitantly, Evan allowed himself to relax into the contact. “Thanks.”

Zoe pulled back and gave him a wide smile. “I swear I got you something, but I left it in the car, so if you have time, I’ll give it to you after school.” Evan nodded and looked around. “Connor’s not here,” she informed him.

Evan stiffened. “I’m sorry?”

Zoe laughed, realizing she’d sounded more menacing than she had intended. “I meant that he’s not _nearby_. He was fine as of five minutes ago. I’m sure you’ll see him at some point. If anything, I have to drive him both ways, so you’ll see him when I give you your gift.”

“Look at Evan, getting all the shit,” Jared teased, coming up next to Evan. “Even three days after. Speaking of, what are you getting me for my birthday this year?”

“You’re going to be a legal adult. Get yourself a present, Jared,” snapped Alana Beck, who was walking by. Jared flipped off her retreating form.

“She’s got a stick up her ass these days. Like, a bigger one than usual. I think someone changed it out over the summer and didn’t use enough lube.”

“Didn’t her grandma die recently?” Evan asked, increasingly irritated with his neighbor/family friend. The look on Zoe’s face told him he wasn’t the only one.

Jared gave him an incredulous look. “So what? Old people die all the time. I don’t see why she has to be a bitch to me because of something totally separate.”

“You are such a dick,” Zoe marveled. “Like, you’re just a massive, insensitive, self-centered _dick_.” She gave Evan a sympathetic look. “I’ll see you later, Evan.”

Jared snorted as she walked away. “Guess your dream girl’s more like her brother than you thought, dude. Unless you’re into that. In which case, good for you, have a nice life, just don’t invite me to the wedding, alright?”

Evan didn’t say anything. Instead, he opted to shrug off the hand Jared had resting on his upper arm and head to class. Just in time for the first bell, too. Not that going to class would be an escape from Jared, but walking away was at least something of a reprieve.

 

\---

 

He hadn’t thought it could _possibly_ get louder, but here he was, proven wrong. He was sitting in a solitary corner of the school, knees pulled up to his chest as he read, turning pages with trembling fingers. Thursdays weren’t supposed to be loud - he’d realized too late that he’d left his headphones at home but thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. Now, hours later, he was very, very wrong. Even as far from the epicenter of activity as he could get, the noise was buzzing in the back of his head. He’d read the same paragraph three times, but looking away meant putting nothing between him and the noise.

When the bell finally rang, he wanted to cry. Partially out of relief at the end of the lunch period, yes, but also because the rude blaring of the bell was _worse_ than the collective noise.

Hands still trembling, he put the book back in his backpack and stood up. His legs shook worse than his hands as he stood up, but he ignored it. Giving in to the fatigue would just cause a scene. Instead, he did what was expected and put one foot in front of another until he made it to class. He took his seat, keeping his head down.

A friend stopped next to him, asked where he’d been at lunch. He answered vaguely, but honestly. The friend asked him if he’d eaten. He answered vaguely. The friend was worried, but had to take their seat when the teacher asked they settle in. As the teacher called roll, he felt the friend’s eyes on him, burning with worry. He wished people didn’t care; it would make it all so much easier if no one cared.

He almost didn’t hear his name.

“Lee Paige?”

“Here,” he replied, an old reflex.

He didn’t feel here.

 

\---

 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Alana said honestly, startling Evan slightly. She didn’t normally talk to anyone.

“I-I’m sorry?” he asked, somewhat confused.

She leaned in. “Jared told me where you were last week,” she explained, lowering her voice. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she repeated. “My cousin has seasonal depression, and after my grandma died she just blamed herself and it got worse. It was a pretty horrific downward spiral from there, and she had to be hospitalized for _twelve_ days. She said I shouldn’t tell anyone because they’ll think she’s crazy, but you don’t know her, so what’s the harm?”

It was all Evan could do to not openly gape at Alana. What was it with this girl and the oversharing? “Uh, thanks,” he managed, trying to pull away from the conversation without seeming rude.

She grinned at him and sat back up. “You’re welcome,” she replied, beaming.

Evan was kind of weirded out, but he let it be. It was the last class of the day. After this, he could see Zoe - and hopefully Connor, too. When the bell rang and signaled the end of school, Evan got out of the room with uncharacteristic energy and made it to his locker in record time. Fumbling with the lock slightly, he opened it up and exchanged everything he did and didn’t need with slight urgency. The slam of closing it would have made him flinch on any other day. By the time Evan made it to the front of the school, people were still trickling out of classrooms.

It didn’t take long to spot Zoe’s car in the student parking lot. He made his way to it with a little less hurry, knowing it could be a little while until Zoe made it out. Connor was there already, leaning against the front passenger door as a cigarette hung between his lips. His messenger bag was thrown haphazardly on top of the Bug and his foot was tapping impatiently as he picked at the paint on his nails.

“Hey,” Evan greeted, somewhat nervous. He wasn’t sure why he felt apprehension in this moment, alone with Connor, but was far too familiar with nervousness to call it anything else.

“Hey,” Connor echoed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You waiting for Zoe?”

Evan nodded. “And you,” he added hurriedly, not wanting to hurt his sort-of friend’s feelings.

Connor snorted. “Well, you found me. Mission half accomplished.” His tone was dry and he leaned his head back so it hit the car as he spoke. His eyes were faraway, barely covering up some emotion Evan couldn’t discern. “If you’re looking for me to say I don’t care if you like Zoe, it’s not going to happen,” he growled out, not looking at Evan, who tensed up considerably. “I care. It’s not worth shit compared to everything I put her through, but I do care. And I don’t think you’re my,” he gestured between the two of them, “whatever this is, just to get close to her. I’m psycho, not totally irrational.” Evan wanted to laugh at that last bit, but he wasn’t sure if it was intended as a joke, so he kept quiet. “You’re not the first person, and you won’t be the last.” He shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ve got a shot. Just remember that I spent a month in juvie for punching Zoe in the face at school in broad daylight, and I _care_ about her.”

If Evan was tense before, now he went so rigid he may as well have been literally frozen. Connor had antagonized enough people in the past that if he said anything that could be even remotely taken as a threat, the subject of the threat got the hell away. Anyone who didn’t already know Connor by reputation would end up learning by the misfortune of others, if not their own stupidity.

Still, Evan realized that he had never once worried about Connor hurting him. He’d worried about pissing him off, sure, but physical harm had never really been a concern of his. Now, standing alone in the parking lot with a threat hanging in the air, Evan could feel his heart pounding as his breaths shortened and his hands dug into the hem of his shirt. He wanted to curl into a ball, but his muscles were still locked. He couldn’t look at Connor but he couldn’t look elsewhere, and was breathing supposed to be this hard?

Evan stammered as he tried to breathe, resulting in desperate, painful gasps. He knew he was having a panic attack, he did, but he couldn’t tell _why_. One second he was thinking about how Connor had never hurt him and the next he’s falling apart. He got his breath back after a moment, but only so he could start crying.

Connor had taken notice as soon as Evan started hyperventilating. Any manufactured malice had fallen away in a heartbeat as he stomped out his cigarette and carefully approached his friend, face painted the picture of concern. He took a few steps closer to Evan, holding his hands out in front of him to show he meant no harm. Connor got close enough to gently usher Evan to around the front of the car, where they were further from public view.

Both boys were at a loss regarding what to do. Connor wanted to comfort Evan in some way, but he’d been the cause of this panic attack and could only assume that he would make things worse. Evan, on the other hand, knew what he needed Connor to do, but he was too busy with his panic attack to vocalize any of it. Connor stood next to Evan awkwardly as the latter struggled to get his breath and his voice back.

_In for four._

_Hold for seven._

_Breathe out for eight._

_In for four._

_Hold for seven._

_Breathe out for eight._

_In for four._

_Hold for seven._

_Breathe out for eight._

_In for four._

_Hold for seven._

_Breathe out for eight._

Evan repeated this over and over again until his breath stopped coming out in hiccups and he could summon the strength to look Connor in the eyes. He hadn’t been expecting much of anything, but the raw concern in his friend’s face was startling to say the least.

“I’m sorry I’m so shitty,” Connor said, in a voice barely over a whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Connor grimaced. “Well, okay, I did, but I’m stupid and should have thought it through more. Sorry isn’t going to do shit, but I am.”

Evan nodded, hiccupping and sniffling. Connor pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and handed it to Evan. He accepted it hesitantly and wiped his eyes and nose. He felt kind of bad about doing it; he knew Connor used them to fidget or pull back his hair, but washing them was always an option, right? He tried his best not to blow his nose in the fabric, but his nose got so runny when he cried that he didn’t have much a choice. Still, Evan felt himself calming. His hand was still trembling, but his breaths were evening out and his heart had stopped pounding. Any trace of aggression on Connor’s part had disappeared, and he was watching Evan apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” Connor repeated, once Evan’s eyes stopped leaking. “And don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not.”

“You guys okay?” Zoe asked, causing both the boys to jump. She was standing at the driver’s side door of the Bug, looking at them both with concern.

Connor looked at Evan. It wasn’t up to him to decide where they stood. Evan nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Yeah, we will be,” he confirmed.

Evan was showing clear signs of having been crying and there was an uncharacteristic softness to Connor’s demeanor, but Zoe didn’t press. Instead, she unlocked the car and put her backpack in the backseat, reemerging with a package wrapped in green paper. “Happy late birthday,” she said with a warm smile, holding it out to Evan. He accepted it carefully; the gift was some sort of fabric and the paper seemed delicate. “You don’t have to open it in front of us,” Zoe reassured.

Stuttering out a thank-you, Evan nodded and hugged the package to his chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, less awkward than before. Both siblings gave him a goodbye and a wave as he walked away, heading over to where he knew Jared would be waiting impatiently with his own car.

“There you are,” Jared exclaimed as Evan got into the car. He didn’t even wait until Evan buckled his seatbelt to take off. “I was about to consider putting out an Amber Alert. Where were you?” Evan held up the package as an explanation. Jared’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, shit, they really did get you a gift. What is it?”

Evan shrugged. “Haven’t opened it yet.”

Jared made a face. “Are you waiting until you get home so you can do something gross with it? Look, I’m with you on Zoe Murphy’s hotness, but I think I might have to stage an intervention for you if you take to masturb-” Evan cut him off with an annoyed rendition of his name. Jared rolled his eyes. “Take a joke, dude.” He smirked, looking at Evan sideways. “It’s actually Connor that gets you off, right?”

“ _Jared!_ ”

He gave an amused cackle. “What, it’s not impossible!”

Evan groaned. “I can’t believe you anymore.”

“Really, I’m just flattered that you believed me to begin with.”

 

The gift from the Murphys ended up being a maroon jacket with the National Park Service logo printed on the back and a leather-bound journal. On the first page of the journal, someone had drawn a pine forest stretching out to the horizon. It was sketchy and done in black pen, but Evan thought it was beautiful. Running his fingers over the image, Evan could feel the telltale indentations that indicated the difference between a hand-drawn image and one printed on. He couldn’t help wondering which Murphy (if any) had taken the time to draw it for him.

He tried on the jacket. Not only was it comfortable and warm, but it fit perfectly. Not too tight, not too loose, and with the sleeves just long enough that he could hide his hands in them if he wanted. Evan smiled as he wrapped his arms around himself, letting the comfort envelop him for a few minutes before he returned to the real world. Still smiling from warmth inside and out, he picked up his phone and shot a text to each of the Murphy siblings thanking them.

 

**Connor:** Happy late birthday. Forgot to tell you earlier since I’m a piece of shit like that

**Connor:** sorry again

**Connor:** I’m glad you like it tho. The scribbles in the notebook are mine btw. Zoe made me do it, but the idea was mine

**You:** I love it. Thank you, Connor.

**Connor:** no prob

 

**Zoe:** what did you say that my brother is trying his damndest not to grin like an idiot??

**Zoe:** OMG DID YOU COMPLIMENT THE DRAWING???? HE HASN’T DRAWN IN AGES HE WAS SO NERVOUS WHAT YOU’D THINK OF IT

**You:** Why are you screaming?

**Zoe:** Because it’s a big deal. I was sad I couldn’t find any notebooks with trees on the cover on short notice and Con offered to draw a few trees.

**Zoe:** and then it turned into a whole fucking pine forest because he hasn’t really drawn since he started using

**Zoe:** he can’t do faces for shit but he likes nature and scenery and stuff like that. I’ll see if I can find any of his old works to show you

**You:** I’d like that, but only if he’s okay with it.

**Zoe:** Goody two-shoes :p

**Zoe:** I’m glad you two are getting along. Really, I’m glad he’s getting along with anyone, but I think you both needed this.

 

Evan stared at the screen of his phone. She was right, he had needed this. He _still_ needed this. He needed people who listened, people who gave a shit but weren’t hyper-vigilant of him. People who could visit him in the mental hospital and not treat him like he was made of glass. People who drew him out of his comfort zone but respected his boundaries. _Friends._

 

**Zoe:** You okay?

**You:** Yeah, I’m great. Thanks to both of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and did I mention we were getting some Connor backstory? Anyway, here I am jumping on the artist Connor bandwagon. It's a cute idea, okay? Besides, my best friend is the artist and I'm the writer, so I like those friendships/pairings. Deal with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments/constructive criticism to give me the motivation to keep writing!
> 
> (Oh, and if you wanna scream at me more in-depth about the fic, you can hit me up on Tumblr at bwayauhq or yes-i-also-miss-our-talks!)


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